Remind Me to Forget
by peanutmeg
Summary: Blaine's moved on from Sadie Hawkins. He's fine; it was years ago. But it seems that the past isn't done with Blaine.
1. Prologue

Prologue

Blaine exits the mall with a smile – he'd managed to find a cheaper version of a scarf Kurt had been drooling over and he'd gotten three new bowties on clearance. Maybe he'd use the money he saved to mail the scarf to Kurt, instead of waiting for his trip to New York next month; Kurt loved surprises.

He's almost to his car when he hears a joking voice a few cars down. He glances over and sees a forest green Ford truck, its owner leaning against one of the too-big-to-be-practical tires, talking into his phone dressed in stained jeans, a grey t-shirt, and scuffed sneakers. It's only after he's catalogued the outfit that Blaine notices the guy's face and freezes as he hears him say, "Yeah, lemme finish –

" _-finished Anderson! What did you think? That just because you're one of those homos now you can ruin this dance for us?" Blaine looks up from the pavement, the words are choppy, unevenly fading in and out, and Blaine absently notices that there's something dark staining his shoe. _

"_Look at me! Think you're too good to look me in the eye? Be a man, Anderson!" The shoe moves and a starburst of pain erupts in his side as he tries to curl away. But that takes him closer to Mitch, who lifts him enough to land a solid punch._

"_Like the homo knows how to be a man, Steve. Looks like we have to teach 'em." Blaine closes his eyes._

"—parked?" Blaine blinks, taking in the thirty-something mother standing in front of him, "It's so easy to forget, you know? But there's this app now – I thought all you kids would have it."

Blaine offers a polite smile, "I'll have to see about getting it, thanks. I think I'm over," Blaine gestures vaguely behind him, "that way though."

Blaine hears a "good luck!" called as he turns away.

Once in his car, bags safely on the passenger seat, Blaine just stares at his shaking hands and tries to rationalize.

Breathe in. He's miles away from that place.

Breathe out. _There's probably hundreds of forest green trucks in Ohio. _

Breathe in. _It's just a coincidence._

Breathe out.

It's just a coincidence.


	2. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

"Hey, you."

"So," Kurt's voice was warm and teasing through the phone, "I couldn't figure out why Santana came to the diner complaining about the mailman, of all people. Imagine my surprise when I get home and find a box addressed to me on the table."

"Oh really," Blaine's glad for once that he's alone in the house, so no one's around to see his love-struck expression. "I wonder how that happened."

"I wonder, too, especially since there's only a copy of a lovely e.e. cummings poem rather than a note to go with this rather fashionable scarf. I have a fiancé, you know, I can't be getting presents from strangers."

Blaine felt a coil of warmth spread through him – _fiancé_. "I know you do. Maybe your fiancé just wanted to remind you that he's thinking of you."

"Well, I'm thinking of him too." Kurt gives a small laugh, "I can't believe you remembered that conversation, Blaine. Actually, I don't even know how you managed to find it in _Ohio_ of all places."

"I remember everything with you, Kurt." Blaine leans back against the arm of the sofa, "And I have been shopping with you, many times. I did learn some things."

"Not all, I hope. I do need some shopping secrets."

"Don't worry. I mean, I was looking, but I wasn't when I found it. I mean, there were bowties on clearance," he ignores the soft laughter in response, "and I saw it as I was turning. It was really just a happy coincidence."

_Like seeing that truck. Seeing that face. It was coincidence. Nothing else. Just a coincidence._

"—aine. Blaine? Are you okay? Blaine?" Kurt's voice was tight with worry, and loud enough that Blaine knew he'd repeated himself at least twice.

"Sorry! Sorry –," For a moment, Blaine considered telling Kurt, about being in the parking lot, seeing the truck, the memories, all of it. But really, there was nothing to tell, and Kurt didn't need reminders of Blaine's past. "Really sorry, Kurt, I just spaced out for a minute. It's been a long day."

"And here I thought I always drew focus."

"You did. You do, I mean. You brought me back after all. But how was your day, before the surprise, I mean."

"Oh, it was pretty routine, actually, until my fiancé had me thinking he'd passed out or something while talking to me."

"Not funny, Kurt."

"No, it wasn't." There was a pause, and then Kurt continued, "But you did send me this wonderful scarf, so I suppose you're forgiven."

"Hey Kurt?"

"Yes?"

Blaine clenched his fingers around his phone, trying to hold on to the happiness in Kurt's voice and sings, "You are perfect to me."

"I love you."

Blaine doesn't even care that he's smiling in an empty house. "I love you, too."

"Good. So you'll listen to me when I tell you that you need to sleep now. It's a bit late, Blaine."

It's later, after they've said their goodnights (but not goodbye, never goodbye) and Blaine's brushed his teeth and lying in bed that he types the message.

_Text message from Blaine:_

i carry your heart with me(i carry it in / my heart)

_Photo message from Kurt:_

[picture] it's above my desk, see? Santana keeps questioning my sanity since I'm smiling while working on my computer.

_Text message from Kurt:_

For future reference, I am never opposed to surprise, romantic notes from my fiancé. Even if they are unsigned. ;)

_Text message from Blaine:_

:)

* * *

At school the next day Blaine doodles wedding rings and hearts in his Civics notebook. After he corrected the teacher on what the 20th amendment was – lame duck – he'd stopped calling on Blaine in class, and since they were starting a new unit in Calculus next period, Blaine couldn't work on future homework, either. He sighed and turned to a blank page. Maybe he could use the time to work on possible ideas for the Student Council fund raiser. It was tradition for the seniors to donate something to the school, and while Blaine didn't particularly care for McKinley High itself, he wasn't going to let his class be the first to break tradition.

He'd text Kurt during lunch, see if he had any ideas. Kurt always had the best ideas, and not just because he knew the worst since Mr. Schue seemed to live for giving Glee the least helpful fund raisers possible.

Blaine gives a smile as the clock ticks down – one minute til the bell – and quickly writes the homework from the board in his agenda before he begins packing his bag. Tina and Unique are in his Calculus class, and he always sees Sam in the hallway. Plus, he has lunch in two hours, and the break is always welcome.

The bell rings, and Blaine joins the rush of students into the already crowded hallways.

* * *

Lunch at McKinley is loud; that's the first description Blaine had thought of when joining Kurt a year ago, and it holds true still. He is used to it of course, he's adapted to the cacophony of sound – complete with irregular outbursts from the cheerleaders or hockey team or whatever social group that decides it needs ten seconds of the spotlight, with voices shrieking to carry over the din.

Blaine can ignore all of it, now.

He checks his phone for any missed texts from Kurt (inane comments about the weather, a description of the hideous sweater someone was wearing – _you'd think people at a theatre school would have more sense!_ – complaints about boring classes. Small things that never fail to bring a smile to Blaine's face, fondness stretching across state lines).

Before he can even get passed his lock screen his phone is taken from his hand by Unique, who ignores the (he's sure) startled look on his face.

"Blaine, I'm thrilled you and Kurt have worked out your communication problems. You're the poster couple for long distance relationships. But right now we," Unique glances around the table, "-I need you to focus. We have that fundraiser performance at the retirement center next month and you're going to help me prepare an appropriately fabulous performance."

Seeing the determined look on Unique's face, Blaine knows better than to even attempt to reach for his phone. He grabs one of his tacos instead, hoping the change in movement isn't noticeably awkward.

"It's next _month_." The stress Jake puts on the last word is audible. "We have time."

"It will be good practice for Nationals." Unique's voice takes on a cutting lilt, "Unless you want to explain why McKinley is a one-time show choir champion."

"So, this weekend?" Blaine glances at Unique before pointedly looking at Tina and Marley and Sam, "We can all meet up at The Lima Bean and discuss possible routines?"

Marley gives a nod while Sam looks to Ryder. Blaine feels a hollow ache and forces his breathing to remain steady at the subtle reminder that Sam no longer lived at Burt and Carole's house – he'd moved in with the Lynn family after Finn -

After Finn.

Blaine pushes the thought away and focuses on Ryder in time to hear him answer, "– fine, as long as it's Saturday. Sunday's already swamped."

"Artie and I can be there around 11," Kitty turns to Blaine and her pony tail swings behind her, "we're dropping my mom's dog off at the vet by 10 but we'll be free after."

"Not me," Tina looks apologetic, "I have to be back here by 8 AM for the ACT."

"Tina," Blaine gives a small smile, "You already took the ACT. We took it months ago, remember? I kept worrying I was going to get sick because the thermostat was broken and the room went from 50 to 80 every hour."

"I _know_ we took the ACT Blaine, but I only got a 26. Mom and Dad want me to retake it so I can apply for direct admittance into some colleges. I already retook the SAT and got 40 points higher, though."

Blaine blinks away his surprise, absently wondering what it's like to have parents who keep track of ACT and SAT test dates. "Right. Well I'll make sure to take notes and we can talk after."

Having just taken a bite of her sandwich, Tina nods in response.

"Is that some Asian thing? Taking the test twice, I mean." Sam looks genuinely interested, but Blaine ducks his head to hide his wince anyway.

Tina turns to face Sam, even though he's two seats away. "It's not an Asian thing. My parents expect me to do well of course, but not only Asians retake the test – a lot of seniors do, especially since colleges will only see the highest score."

Sam nods. "Still seems harsh though. Taking those things more than once – ruining one weekend was more than enough for me."

Tina's eyes narrow, but thankfully Marley cuts in before anything can be said. "So 11 at The Lima Bean. I can sneak in some of Mom's muffins so we only have to buy coffee too."

Unique claps her hands together and gives a blinding smile. "That would be amazing. Your mom's baking is sinful."

Marley blushes and lowers her head, and Blaine understands. Just like his sexuality was accepted by this group, so was Marley's mother – something that had caused embarrassment and occasional humiliation at their former schools was accepted here.

Blaine turns to Unique and puts on his most charming smile. "So now that that's settled, can I have my phone back, please?"

"I'm only giving this to you because you got a message a few minutes ago," Unique says as she hands over the phone, "and I know you'll want to reply before class."

Blaine absently nods and unlocks his phone.

_Text message from Kurt:_

Got an extra chapter added to my homework because some idiot in class decided to ask the stupidest questions known to man to try and distract the prof.

_Text message from Kurt:_

I'm going to need cheesecake to survive this.

Blaine laughs and begins to type out a reply, content.

* * *

After school, Blaine enters his silent house – his mother's cruise lasts another five days, not counting travel back to Ohio, and his father has another ten of work before he's on break. He heads up the stairs to his room where he drops off his bag and wakes up his computer, checking his e-mail and going to Facebook.

He spends the next few hours online, procrastinating on homework while reading social media. He's startled away from a YouTube video of a show choir's mashup of Imagine Dragon's hits when his phone chimes with a message.

_Text message from Kurt:_

I understand the importance of classic theatre, really. But I want to burn ancient Greek theatre and Antigone.

Blaine's response is interrupted by the arrival of another text.

_Text message from Kurt:_

My brain hurts, Blaine. When you start in the fall be prepared for a new level of headaches. And we should buy stock in Tylenol.

Blaine taps Kurt's name, absently smiling as the call connects. "If it makes you feel better I have to read three chapters of _Wuthering Heights_ and be ready for a vocabulary quiz in the morning. Are you home already?"

"Almost," Kurt sighs down the line, "Just two more stops, although the flickering light in here isn't doing my head any favors."

"The downside of riding the subway after class, I suppose." Blaine paused and he stood and stepped away from his desk, "I still can't wait til I can do that, though."

"You must be crazy," Blaine can hear the smile in Kurt's voice, "wanting to share in headaches and questionable lighting."

"It's what I signed up for. But hey, can I put you on speaker? I was just about to start dinner."

"No Blaine. I want my fiancé to starve because I can't handle him setting down the phone."

Blaine laughs as he makes his way downstairs, flipping on lights on his way to the kitchen. He set the phone to speaker and headed for the pantry, pulling out a box of pasta and a jar of generic sauce. "So I was thinking… Since you're almost home – want to cook with me?"

"It's a good thing Santana's at the diner. She'd never let me live this down."

"That's a yes!" Blaine doesn't attempt to hide his smile as he walks around the kitchen, pulling out pans and other ingredients as Kurt chatters away.

" – but they're just creepy! They restate lines and in the old productions their masks were hideous, Blaine. Hideous. I'd rather work on costumes than be given one of those parts." A cabinet door closes, "Looks like it's frozen pizza for me tonight. I don't want to know what Rachel did to my rice, Blaine. It's missing and the pot in the sink has black chunks in it. She's washing that. Or replacing it."

"Pizza's good though. Usually." Blaine smiles when Kurt hums in response.

And if Blaine dances around the kitchen while making dinner and talking to his fiancé, that's just an added benefit of having no audience in an empty house.

* * *

It's later, after Blaine and Kurt have both agreed to be serious students and work on homework, that the house phone rings. He sets aside his book and post-its, sighing and pausing his music when he sees his dad's cell phone number.

"Hello?"

"Blaine. How was school?" The connection is sketchy, but despite the background noise – wind? Exhaust from the planes? – his father's voice still manages to convey disinterest.

"Fine – it was fine. We started a new unit in calc, and we got our Glee assignment. It's "change" week which is pretty generic but I was thinking of doing _Chasing the Sun_ because–"

"That's nice, Blaine. Make sure you get tutoring for that calculus class if you need it; I know math isn't your favorite subject." It amazed Blaine, sometimes, how his father could attempt to be helpful while focusing on Blaine's faults.

"I get it so far, it's just another step with derivatives. And Tina gets math, so I'll be fine."

"Tina sounds like a nice girl. Smart, too." Blaine can't hold back the sigh at his father's words, and absently straightens the packet of post-its lying on his desk.

"She's a good friend."

If his father hears the unconscious emphasis Blaine puts on friend he gives no indication in his response, "I'm sure she is." Blaine stays silent, listening to the whirl of noise on the other end of the phone. "Well, be sure to say hello to your mother for me, if you speak to her. Make sure you finish up your homework, too. I know how easy it is to fall behind, especially with all your extracurriculars."

Blaine rolls his eyes, wondering if Burt paid the same care to Kurt's academics. "I'm almost done, actually. And if Mom calls I'll let her know."

"Right. Have a good evening, Blaine." His father uses the superficial tone people use when etiquette demands a response, and Blaine knows his father is already preoccupied, far removed from the phone call.

"You too." Blaine stares as his phone goes dark, before setting it to the side. Restarting his music he picks up his copy of _Wuthering Heights_, prepared to read – and add post-its where necessary – as much as possible.

Two and half chapters and a forgotten number of sticky notes later, Blaine starts at the chime from his phone.

_Text message from Kurt:_

Done for the night. Let me know when you are too! ;)

_Text message from Blaine:_

I can be done :) It's late enough, and I'm already a chapter and a half ahead.

Seconds later Blaine's phone blares the chorus of _Love, Love, Love_, with Kurt's face (and ring) flashing up at him from the screen, "Hi."

"Hi. A chapter and half ahead? Such an overachiever." Kurt sounds tired but happy, and Blaine can't help but compare the sound to the last voice on the other end of his phone.

"Mhm. I'm going to the garage tomorrow so I wanted to get ahead."

"I'm sure Dad will appreciate the help." Kurt's voice goes gentle, "And…thanks, for checking in on him."

"It's not like it's a hardship. Your dad," Blaine takes a breath, "he's amazing, Kurt, really. And it's a nice place to work – it's actually fun to work on the cars." Blaine heads to his dresser and pulls out his pajamas.

Kurt laughs, "I'm glad you think so. But Blaine… is everything okay?"

Blaine smiles, and wonders what he did to have such a kind, wonderful fiancé who knows him so well. "Can't hide anything from you, can I?"

"No. And you shouldn't even try. So tell me what's wrong."

"Nothing really." Blaine continues before Kurt and voice any objection, "Dad checked in earlier."

"Oh?" Kurt's voice is quiet, cautious.

"He wanted to make sure I knew to finish my homework." Blaine let out a sigh as he sets his pajamas on his bed, "And to ensure that I won't let my grades slip because I'm busy with other things. So he really didn't do anything, Kurt, see?"

"No." Blaine can tell Kurt's measuring his words, forcibly keeping his tone even, "But he didn't have to, I think." There's a pause, and then Kurt's voice is back to its regular cheer, "At least he took the time to call, though. Anyway," Blaine hears a quiet yawn, "It's pretty late. Are you ready for bed?"

"Give me five minutes?"

"Of course. I'll just go grab some water."

Blaine sets his phone on his nightstand before picking up his pajamas and heading for his bathroom.

Minutes later, now changed and with freshly brushed teeth Blaine gets into bed and grabs his phone.

"Kurt?"

"I hope you weren't expecting someone else." Blaine hears the rustling sheets and mentally sees Kurt shifting, getting comfortable.

"Never."

Blaine listens as Kurt quietly relays the latest drama between Santana and Rachel involving nail polish, the piano, and Rachel's destiny as a Broadway star (even Kurt isn't quite sure how the three are connected). His response is interrupted by a jaw cracking yawn, however, and Blaine feels his cheeks flush.

"Sorry."

"Mm. It's late. We should get some sleep." Kurt's words are slurred, hazy with sleep.

"Yeah. Sweet dreams Kurt. Love you."

"Love you too, 'night Blaine." The fondness in the words is evident, despite them being slightly mumbled, "Sweet dreams."

* * *

Hours later, Blaine jerks up in his bed, covered in a cold sweat. The floodlight from the garage casts shadows in his room –

_The streetlight flickers, making spots dance in front of him and Blaine sees the shadow in front of him grow. _

_A green truck speeds away, music blasting from open windows. _

"Just a dream" Blaine's voice seems impossibly loud in the silence of his room. He shakes his head, easing his clenched fists from his sheets and looking for his phone.

Breathe in. _It's just a stupid dream_.

Breathe out. His phone is on the floor, caught in the edge of his comforter.

Breathe in. The light from his phone is harsh, but the face and silver ring staring back mean safety.

Breathe out. _Just a stupid dream._


	3. Chapter 2

Remind Me to Forget

Chapter 2

Entering the library Kurt rubs his hands together to dispel the chill and heads for the elevators. New York may be the city he's dreamed of since he was three, but the cold (especially in the morning) is just as troublesome as it was in Ohio. In his haste to leave the loft he hadn't grabbed his gloves – they didn't really match his outfit anyway – and he was paying for that oversight now.

_Text message from Kurt:_

For future reference, pockets do not make up for a lack of gloves… even if it is more fashionable.

_Text message from Blaine:_

Aren't you always telling me that the cold dries out your skin? I'm shocked Kurt, shocked!

_Text message from Kurt:_

You're not as funny as you think you are.

_Text message from Kurt:_

It wasn't intentional.

Making sure his phone is set to vibrate, he places it and his hands back in his jacket pockets – rubbing didn't do anything, unfortunately – after pressing the 'up' arrow. According to the online catalogue, all the books on ancient Greek theatre were on the third floor, and he's hoping to find some references for his mid-term paper. He doesn't have a topic chosen yet, but he can just choose books that sound interesting; plus, this early in the term he doesn't have to worry about the perfect reference being checked out, or worse, in the depository and needing a week for delivery.

A few students wait close by but none make an effort to say hello, even when the elevator doors finally open and they cram into the confined space. His fame due to the sing-off was short lived, and all the members of Adam's Apples avoid him when at all possible. He isn't sure if Adam had requested it or not, but the result is same.

Exiting the elevator and turning left, Kurt glances at the call number written on a post-it, comparing it to the sets on shelves. Like all libraries, it's almost eerily silent, so even the rustle of the small chain on his vest seems unbearably loud. He's tempted to put in his headphones and listen to Broadway masterpieces on his iPod, but he knows at least one ear bud will fall out while he scours the shelves, so that's better left for later, when he's reading while enjoy a cup of coffee.

Turning down the aisle that matches his note, Kurt makes it three feet before he stops: Of course the Harold Smith Prince Library has four shelves of books on Greek theatre; Kurt's not sure whether to be impressed or appalled.

* * *

Blaine exits McKinley High and stretches the tension from his shoulders. He enjoys Glee Club, feels connected with the other members in a way he never had with the Warblers, but the _drama_.

Jake was still thoroughly embracing his newly single status – eerily similar to Puck when Blaine had first met him – and while Marley and Ryder appeared to be happy, there was a line that Jake was toeing with alarming frequency. There hadn't been a public argument, luckily, but only because they tended to keep their arguments away from the choir room these days. Sarcasm and cutting remarks were fair game, however, and Jake and Ryder were experts at both.

Pushing away the thoughts along with the tension, Blaine pulls his phone from his bag as he walks to his car.

_Text message from Blaine:_

Just got done with Glee. On my way to the garage :)

_Text message from Kurt:_

Have fun! Make sure to change clothes – oil stains are evil! ;)

_Text message from Blaine:_

It's cute how you think you have to remind me.

_Text message from Blaine:_

I have an old t-shirt and jeans in your dad's office. And Burt keeps a pair of coveralls for me.

_Text message from Kurt:_

Blaine Anderson, I *love* you.

Blaine can't stop the smile from spreading across his face, and is immeasurably glad that he's arrived at his car so no one can see him looking besotted over a text message.

_Text message from Blaine:_

Love you, too! I'll tell Burt you say hi! 3

Getting into his car, Blaine connects his phone to his stereo and sets his music on shuffle before pulling on his seatbelt. The drive to Hummel Tires & Lube is relatively short and less than fifteen minutes later Blaine is entering the open door.

A few mechanics give Blaine a nod and wave in greeting as he heads for Burt's office. The office is open but empty, so he grabs his clothes and heads for the employee restroom to quickly change.

Returning minutes later he finds the office still empty, and Blaine sets his school clothes on the chair with his bag before exiting the room. Outside the doorway he scans the garage for Burt before one of the mechanics – he can't tell who from the distance – nods toward a red Ford Taurus. Smiling his thanks Blaine heads for the car. Burt emerges from the opposite side when Blaine is steps away.

"Hey kid." Burt rubs grease stained fingers over his overall covered leg before reaching up to straighten his cap. "You up for an oil change? This one still needs it since I found some other issues and need to talk to the owner to see what he wants to do."

"Sure." Blaine moves toward the open hood while stealing glances at Burt; he looks healthy enough, no circles under his eyes or stiffness in his walk.

"I'm fine, Anderson. I even had one of those low cal soup things for lunch. You can ask any of the guys."

Blaine feels his cheeks heat with a blush and looks at the engine rather than the man standing a foot away. "Right. Sorry. An oil change – anything else I should know?"

The hand on his shoulder is unexpected, and Blaine's arm twitches involuntarily. "You're a good kid." Blaine raises his eyes to the left and Burt offers a small smile, "You're not exactly subtle, but Kurt isn't either." The hand on Blaine's shoulder briefly tightens. "I plan on sticking around, Blaine, got things I still want to see. So I'll take my meds and pass on the burgers if I have to. And you can tell Kurt that."

"I will." Blaine gives a sheepish smile as Burt removes his hand and steps away.

"Alright. Well I'm gonna go talk to the man who didn't realize his car was a jump away from dying."

"Have fun!" Blaine laughs even as he turns back to the exposed engine, ready to work.

* * *

Blaine hums the chorus of _Teenage Dream _as he turns the wrench, working on the well-used gold minivan. Finished, he stands, heading toward the toolbox. A boisterous laugh catches his attention and he turns his head slightly –

and drops the wrench at the sight of a forest green truck.

Jim, an older mechanic working a few feet away glances up at the noise, "Tired today, Anderson?"

Blaine gives a smile as he bends to retrieve the wrench, "Not really. Just clumsy, I guess."

"Not on the cars, I hope." Jim laughs.

Blaine shakes his head and walks toward the truck. He has to check, just to make sure. Just in case -

Breathe in. _Forest green is a common car color. _

Breathe out. _This is Lima._

Breathe in. _He's probably changed cars by now._

Breathe out. _It was years ago_.

Now feet away from the truck Blaine takes in the details and almost drops the wrench again when his muscles ache with the release of a death grip he hadn't realized he'd had. This truck is newer, more subtle curves than angles, and he sees a pair of smiley faced dice hanging from the rear view mirror when he looks through the windshield.

_It's a different truck._

"You just gonna stand there?"

Blaine whips around at Burt's voice, silently cursing himself for getting distracted.

"Of course not, Mr. Hummel. Just putting this," Blaine slightly raises the wrench, "back where it belongs."

"Uhuh. You got plans with your parents for dinner?" Burt takes the wrench from Blaine's hand.

Blaine shakes his head. "I have some leftover pasta from yesterday though." Blaine watches as Burt places the wrench in a bin with other tools before turning back to face him.

"C'mon kid, you're joining me and Carole for dinner." It's a statement, like Burt sees it as fact, rather than invitation.

"Thanks for the offer Mr. Hummel, but I wouldn't want to intrude –"

"You wouldn't be intruding, Blaine," Burt interrupts. Briefly Burt's eyes tighten, "You'd be doing us a favor, actually. Carole doesn't know how to cook for two."

Blaine is nodding before Burt has finished his sentence. "Of course. Thanks Mr. Hummel. I'm sure it will be delicious."

Burt nods. "Glad that's settled. Now you go change and I'll meet you at the house; that way you'll have your car and can head home after dinner."

Blaine smiles and walks toward Burt's office to comply.

* * *

Walking to the Hudson-Hummel front door, Blaine is struck by the stillness of the house: no yelling at a videogame, no shouting as he knocks on the door, no pounding steps seconds later.

Blaine shakes his head slightly to dispel his gloomy thoughts – he _will not _upset Carole, and has a smile on his face by the time Burt opens the door.

"You don't still have to knock when we're expecting you." Burt steps back to allow Blaine to enter the house.

"Force of habit," Blaine says with a smile and a shrug, "etiquette lessons aren't easy to forget."

Blaine follows Burt down the small hall and into the kitchen, where Carole is pulling a pan out the oven and setting it atop the stove.

"Oh Blaine! I was so glad when Burt said you'd be joining us." Carole walks over and gives Blaine a light hug before stepping back, "I hope you don't mind eating in the kitchen; the dining room is a bit big for three."

"I don't mind at all. I ate in my kitchen last night, actually." Blaine glances around the kitchen. "Do you need any help? I could set the table or get napkins." Blaine's voice rises at the end of the sentence, as if in question.

"Silverware's already on the table." From beside him Burt gestures to Carole who is carefully dishing out the contents of the pan, "Carole's got the plates, just get yourself a drink – you know where everything is – and sit down."

Heading for the fridge Blaine replies. "I can get yours too, if you'd like." Opening the door Blaine pulls out a can of Coke Zero; he'll need the caffeine for the drive home, especially given his lack of sleep.

"We've already gotten ours, Blaine, don't worry about it."

Blaine takes a seat at the empty place at the table, setting down his can as he does so. Seconds later he sees Burt carrying two plates over and starts to stand only to have Burt shake his head at him. "We can handle this, Blaine. Just sit."

Blaine gives a slightly embarrassed smile as Burt slides one the plates in front of him before setting the other in front of himself, in the chair to Blaine's right.

Carole joins them moments later, a glass of water in one hand and her plate in the other.

"It smells delicious, Mrs. Hudson-Hummel. Thanks again for having me over."

Taking her seat she gives Blaine a smile, "You're more than welcome Blaine. But really, it's Carole; Hudson-Hummel is such a mouthful!"

Burt laughs, "I think he's programmed to say Mr. and Mrs., Carole. It's a lost cause," Burt briefly pauses, "at least for now."

Blaine feels himself blush at the subtle reminder that these people are his future in-laws. "Sorry." Blaine takes a bite of baked chicken florentine to stall any further words on the subject. "This really is delicious, much better than my leftovers."

Carole turns to Blaine, "No reason to be sorry Blaine, really. And I'm glad you like it; you'll be taking some home." Carole looks away and her voice is tightly controlled, "We certainly don't need so many leftovers here." Carole blinks and then looks back at Blaine with a smile, "Besides, it's silly to cook for one, and you're a teenaged boy – you're perpetually hungry."

"Well I certainly won't say no to leftovers."

"Good answer Blaine." Burt tilts his glass slightly in acknowledgement. "Now, how was Glee? What are you workin' on?"

Beside him, Carole nods. "Something you like, I hope."

Blaine takes a sip of soda before smiling. They want to hear about Glee. They care that it's 'change' week and he wants to sing _Chasing the Sun _by Sara Bareilles, even though they probably have never heard the song.

Blaine doesn't even attempt to hide his joy as he begins to speak.

* * *

Kurt forcibly ignores the argument Rachel and Santana are having in the middle of the loft, and futilely wishes for _walls_.

He walks around his room, rearranging his clothes and waking up his computer. He makes sure his Internet is working and then moves back to his bed, putting in his ear buds and picking up one of the five books he'd checked out from the library.

Four songs and seven pages later – the author must take delight in making sentences as highhanded as possible – he no longer hears discordant yelling. Cautiously he pulls out one ear bud and lets out a quiet sigh of relief; Rachel and Santana have settled their argument, based on the quiet murmur of the television and barely audible conversation. After putting his ear bud back in, he hums along to _Oklahoma!_ and hopes its cheerful melody will prevent him from throwing this book off his bed.

_Text message from Kurt:_

Remind me that damaging library property is not worth the fees. The topic is right, but this author is trying too hard to make a name for himself.

Kurt manages another five pages – and really, who knew reading could be so exhausting – before his phone beeps with a text.

_Text message from Blaine:_

The joys of college!

_Text message from Blaine:_

…are you up for a break? I just got home and was thinking Skype? ;)

_Text message from Kurt:_

You're a horrible influence, truly.

_Text message from Kurt:_

I'm signing in now.

Computer in front of his crossed legs, Kurt leans back against his pillows. Moments later Blaine is smiling up at him, hair falling out of its gel.

"Hi."

"Hi. And I'm not a terrible influence; I'm saving you from exorbitant library fees."

Kurt lets out a short laugh, "Right. And four-syllables, congratulations on putting your AP English vocabulary to good use." Kurt pauses. "Although I'm scared to think of what I'd have to do to the book for a fee to reach exorbitant levels."

"It's a _college _library book. I'm pretty sure the rule is that everything with 'college' in the title is automatically expensive."

Blaine leans back and Kurt waits for the picture to catch up with real time. During the brief wait he takes note as the television turns off in the next room, followed by the sound of giggles and the front door sliding shut. "Hm. You do have a point. But enough about my _very special _library book." Kurt looks at Blaine before catching his gaze. "Are you okay? You look a little tired."

"I'm fine, Kurt." A brief pause, "Promise. Just a bit of a long day. And Burt's fine too. He told me to let you know that he plans on staying fine for a while." Blaine gives a sheepish smile before continuing. "Apparently I'm not subtle."

"Blaine," Kurt pauses to force down laughter, "you are many wonderful, wonderful things. But subtle has _never _been one of them." Kurt lets a laugh escape before giving Blaine a small private smile. "Thanks, though. For looking in on him."

"It's no trouble, really. It's…nice, to work at the shop. And Burt –" Blaine cuts himself off by bursting into laughter.

Kurt raises his eyebrows, "You okay over there? I didn't know Dad was that funny."

"It's –" another laugh and then Blaine takes a breath, seemingly in control once again. "It's not that, really. It's just…I can call them Burt and Carole when talking to you, but to their faces it's always Mr. Hummel and Mrs. Hudson-Hummel."

"You're a dork."

"You love me anyway." Blaine's smile is confident. "Sorry I was late getting home, by the way. Your dad invited me over for dinner."

Kurt shrugs. "I thought he might. I think," Kurt lightly bites his lower lip, "I think they miss having people in the house, you know?"

"Well, I can't say I mind visiting. Carole even made me take leftovers." On screen, Blaine briefly moves out of sight before returning, sans sweater.

"Well, at least I don't have to worry about you starving."

Blaine gives a mock gasp of outrage. "I can cook!"

Kurt shakes his head, silently berating Skype when the movement appears on screen like a wall of moving hair. "I know you can, Blaine. But it's never fun – or easy – to cook for one." Kurt smiles when Blaine hums an agreement. "Besides, it's a rule that you never turn down well made free food."

Blaine laughs. "I said something similar to Carole, actually." Blaine's face then loses its humor. "So…my mom will be back tomorrow. I don't think she'll be here when I get home from school, but definitely before I go to bed."

Kurt forces his face to remain open, and silently curses the universe for giving Blaine a mother whose mention is enough to take the happiness from Blaine's expression. After all, she isn't _evil_…just ignorant and almost pityingly naïve. Almost being the key word. Pushing away the thoughts – Blaine deserves his full attention, after all – Kurt meets Blaine's slightly grainy gaze.

"Well. We'll just have to take advantage of tonight then. What do you say?" Kurt straightens and undoes the first few buttons of his vest.

"Kurt!" Blaine looks flustered, cheeks pink with a blush and escaped curls shifting as he shakes his head.

"Rachel and Santana left. So it's just me here, at least for now. But if you'd rather just talk –" Kurt shrugs and moves to redo a button.

"No! I mean, just – you're an evil, evil man, Kurt Hummel."

"So I've been told." Kurt undoes another button on his vest, offering a sly smile. "You love me anyway."

Kurt wonders if Blaine's answer of agreement will ever fail to make his heart flutter.

Watching as Blaine undoes his bow tie, Kurt doesn't think so: Blaine Anderson is his soul mate, after all.

* * *

At his desk Blaine moves his calculus book so the glare from his lamp is higher on the page. The headaches induced from the fancy looking glossy pages could easily be avoided if text book editors did their job. Blaine wonders if they've all been out of school for so long that they've forgotten the practicalities of education.

Half an hour after ending his Skype call with Kurt – he has the _best_ fiancé – Blaine is two and a half problems further than he was at the start of tonight. Math has never been his favorite subject, even if he understands it. Unfortunately, these derivative problems require all of his concentration, which is not at its peak after his restless sleep the night before.

Briefly Blaine considers abandoning the assignment because he's already on the bottom half of his notebook paper despite the few number of completed problems; he'd messed up the first problem and had to rewrite it next to his first attempt. It really was too much work for one question, and if he checks the answer in the back and finds he's wrong again – he may throw his text book.

And then give up.

Especially since there's a 50/50 chance his teacher won't collect it. The man seems to delight in taking homework only randomly; leaving Blaine and his classmates with sheets of completed problems, and only their own knowledge to show for it. Of course, the last time he had debated not doing an assignment the homework had been collected the following day (and Blaine had silently thanked his studious nature for prevailing while Artie had looked close to tears).

Sighing, Blaine returns to the problem and manages a smile when _Somewhere Only We Know_ streams from his docking station.

_Text message from Blaine:_

Thinking of you! ;) Much better than calc!

Blaine manages to finish the third problem and start on the forth before his phone chimes a response.

_Text message from Kurt:_

We're being studious Blaine.

_Text message from Blaine:_

I am studious – I just think of you, too. 3

_Text message from Kurt:_

Study, Blaine.

_Text message from Kurt:_

You're in my thoughts, too. Now study so you can graduate and come stay in NY 3

_Text message from Blaine:_

What a worthy incentive. Calculus it is!

With a sigh Blaine turns back to his studies (rearranging his book, notebook, and graphing calculator) with a smile. Trust Kurt to make him happy even when he's doing the _worst homework in world_.

He really does have the _best _fiancé.


	4. Chapter 3

Remind Me to Forget

Chapter 3

With classes done for the day the halls are mostly empty, but there are a few students around as Blaine heads for the choir room. At the end of hall, Coach Sylvester scowls when she catches Blaine's gaze. He looks away as Sam turns from a side hall and catches his attention with waving hands. Reaching Blaine's side, Sam slows his steps and aims for casual. "So…what're you doing for 'change' week?"

Blaine takes a moment to gather his thoughts. Another restless night and the knowledge of his mother's impending arrival have left Blaine tired.

"I was thinking about _Chasing the Sun _because –" Blaine pauses and looks at Sam's earnest face. "You don't have a song, do you." It isn't phrased as a question; Blaine already knows the answer.

"No." Sam shrugs. "I've got til Friday. I'll think of something."

Blaine laughs as they enter the choir room. They quickly take their seats as Mr. Schue claps his hands together in an attempt to get everyone's attention.

"Alright guys." Mr Schue pauses, waiting until the rest of the room is silent. "The performances have been decent so far this week, but I want to remind those of you who haven't performed yet to really reach. Change is about more than just a new school year or event."

The Glee director steps closer to the chairs, moving his arms and gesturing around the room. "It's about embracing the new – letting go of old troubles. Moving on. So don't go the safe route, guys. Each of you is going to have to give one-hundred and ten percent. I expect you to work as much – if not more – in Glee as you would in your other classes –"

Blaine gives an internal sigh of relief when Mr. Schue's speech is interrupted by Tins's raised hand.

"Yes Tina?"

"I love Glee, Mr. Schue. But Glee isn't a _class_. It doesn't affect our GPA. It's a club, just like cheerleading or yearbook committee or Student Council. And we'll all work hard, Mr. Schue, but we've _been _working hard, every time we meet. I just don't think it's fair that you're saying we should be doing more.

"I already put more time in Glee than I do for my other school clubs, and I don't get the recognition here I do there. Add in ACT prep and volunteering and filling out college applications and there isn't extra time for _more effort_, especially for us seniors."

Hoping to forestall an argument Blaine adds, "I thought all the performances this week were great. I'm not sure what more you're expecting us to give, Mr. Schue." Blaine pauses and looks around the room before returning his gaze to the teacher. "And I'm in almost every club McKinley has, and I can say that Tina's right: I spend more time preparing for or in Glee than I do for any other club."

Blaine sees Artie straighten in his chair, about to speak, but Mr. Schue steps even closer, "Guys. Guys!" His voice is loud enough to startle Marley, who's sitting in front. "I'm sorry you misunderstood. Your performances this week have been good. I'm just saying that _everyone_ will need to work hard all year. Don't get complacent and take a safe route – we're preparing for Nationals.

"Now, with that said, who would like to go first?"

Blaine ducks his head as Mr. Schue looks around the room. He had considered performing today, but Mr. Schue's speech has tension settling in his shoulders and wishing for another day to practice. Just when the silence is beginning to reach awkward status Marley stands.

"I'll go."

Blaine gives her an encouraging smile and a thumbs up when the he hears the opening chords of _And So It Goes_. Her voice is soulful; the lyrics coming to life. Of course.

She finishes the song to a round of applause, and then Ryder is joining her in the middle of the room as the band plays the beginning of _Counting Stars_. Blaine quickly snaps a picture.

_Text message from Blaine:_

[photo] I miss our duets during Glee :(

* * *

Kurt exits the dance studio with aching muscles and an empty water bottle. He wants nothing more than to collapse into his bed, shower, and get some food – not necessarily in that order. Adjusting his bag he leaves the building, heading for the subway.

An hour later Kurt resists the urge to simply fall asleep, freshly showered and comfortably ensconced in the small mountain of blankets on his bed. With Rachel at rehearsal – he's certain he'll hear all about it when she's home – and Santana visiting Dani, he has the loft to himself.

The solitude is not helping him come up with the willpower to move.

He really should, though; having the loft to himself is an all too rare occurrence, and the opportunity should be taken like the gift it is. With a sigh he pushes the blankets away (leaving a pile he's sure he'll regret come time for bed) and with one last longing look he leaves his room. He heads for the piano in the living area to practice for his voice class.

Regardless of what the mainstream media and the average person believes, college arts classes are just as taxing as any other college course. At the beginning of the term Kurt had felt intimidated in Voice I, especially since Mr. Schue had woefully underprepared him for the course. After his initial assessment his professor had kindly told him that his inherent talent needed refinement, and that he believed Kurt could succeed if he put in the effort, but to succeed as a counter tenor practice was essential.

Kurt had learned the location and nuances of every freshman vocal practice room within the week.

Initially, Kurt had hoped that the addition of the piano – Blaine really was _amazing_ – would mean he could practice more in the loft. The day after Blaine had returned to Ohio Kurt had woken to Rachel singing and playing the melody to _I'm the Greatest Star_.Within the first week he had realized it was far less stressful to practice on campus than to argue with Rachel over singing rights –

_Kurt, I'm taking classes, working at the diner, and rehearsing for Funny Girl. I don't have time to stay on campus to practice. _

Now, Kurt smiles as he takes a seat on the worn bench. He is tired, but homework comes first.

_Text message from Kurt:_

Empty loft! The piano is mine! :)

_Text message from Blaine:_

:)

_Text message from Kurt:_

Voice homework…

_Text message from Blaine:_

You're already amazing. Practice will just make a great thing even better ;)

_Text message from Kurt:_

Smooth. Very smooth. I think I'll keep you 3

_Text message from Blaine:_

Love you! 3

_Text message from Blaine:_

Now practice so all the NYADA boys can be jealous of your talent

Laughing, Kurt sets his phone on the bit of wood to the right of highest C key before flexing his fingers. Making sure to keep his hands arched he plays a scale to get into the right mindset. He's not Blaine – his pianist abilities are limited to scales for warm-ups and picking out simple melodies for practice. Still, he manages to get through the entirety of the three songs he has to perform during his one-on-one conference next week.

Santana enters while he's practicing a run of thirty-seconds for the third time. He finishes and takes a breath before turning around on the bench to face her.

"You know, it's things like that that make me glad I'm not going to school for singing."

Kurt shrugs. "It'll be worth it, some day."

"You keep telling yourself that, Hummel." Santana gestures toward the piano. "You almost done? There's a _Facts of Life _marathon on, and since you're the genius that introduced me to it, you should share in the killing of brain cells."

Kurt glances at the time on his phone. "Two episodes? I still have reading to do." He feels the grimace on his face at the mention of the book.

"Sounds like a riot."

Gathering his phone, Kurt stands. "That's college."

* * *

Blaine's mother enters the house with a click of heels and a smile. "Blaine, I'm home!"

At the sound of his mother's voice Blaine leaves the kitchen – and his dinner dishes – to see his mother standing in the entryway, hanging her jacket in the coat closet.

"Hi. How was your cruise?"

"Oh! It was just lovely. I found the cutest little shop in one of the ports." Blaine's mother steps forward to give him a quick hug. "Now," she hands Blaine a set of keys, "Could you grab my bags from the car? Travelling is _so_ tiring."

Blaine gives his mom a smile before leaving to get the bags from her car. He shakes his head as he opens the car's back door; he'll have to make two trips.

Minutes later, with the bags piled in the entryway and the front door re-locked, Blaine finds his mother in the kitchen, sipping a glass of white wine.

"Thank you, Blaine. How have you been, sweetie?"

"Fine." Blaine shrugs before taking a seat on the bar stool in front of the island where he had eaten dinner; his half-finished can of soda is sweating.

"I'm guessing you had dinner already." Her gaze slides to the dishes in the sink. "I'm glad you're not living off frozen dinners."

"After I worked at the shop yesterday Mr. Hummel invited me to eat with them. Mrs. Hudson-Hummel gave me leftovers." Blaine takes a sip of his drink. "I'll give the Tupperware back to Mr. Hummel tomorrow when I see him at the garage."

"Hm." Blaine's mother swirls the wine in her glass. "Such a long name; it's quite a mouthful! Do you know why she didn't take her husband's name?"

For a moment Blaine sits, stunned. "I um –" Blaine hates floundering for words. "Kurt's never said, but I know she was married before. And Finn…Finn's last name was Hudson. Maybe she didn't want him to feel left out."

Blaine notices his mother's wine glass is now almost empty. "Maybe so. It was kind of them to invite you to dinner, especially after what they've been through." Her voice takes on a sympathetic quality, and Blaine tightens his grip on his soda can. "Make sure you thank them when you take back that Tupperware. Anyway, sweetheart, how's school?"

"We're reading _Wuthering Heights _in English – I have a vocabulary quiz tomorrow." He smiles before continuing, "Glee's been fun. We had Katy Perry and Lady Gaga not too long ago. We had to sing opposite our favorite, though." Blaine's mother lets out a quiet laugh. "Ryder did an awesome version of _Counting Stars _with Marley today. I might see if Kurt wants to sing it the next time I see him."

Blaine watches his mother for her reaction to Kurt's name. Her face is mostly blank, but she makes sure she catches his gaze as she replies.

"Sounds like you've been having fun in your Glee club, that's nice. Just make sure you spend at least as much time working on your academics." She flashes him a quick smile, "Now. I got you a few presents while I was gone; what do you say we go through my things to find your spoils?"

Blaine laughs as he jumps off the stool, pointedly ignoring his mother's lack of mention about his fiancé. "Sounds like a plan."

Halfway up the stairs fifteen minutes later with a bag in his left hand that contains a book on Haitian music, a pair of hand-made sandals, and a stuffed bear courtesy of the cruise line, Blaine pauses and turns his head when his mother calls his name.

"Yeah?"

"When you spoke to your father, did he happen to mention what time his plane was getting in? I was thinking we could all go out for dinner."

"Oh." Blaine pauses, remembering phone calls. "No, he didn't. But he's been calling almost every night so you can ask him later, probably."

"Hm. Alright. If your father agrees, is there any place in particular where you'd like to go? Or something you've had recently? You mentioned you went to the mall not too long ago; I'm guessing you ate out then."

Blaine's hand tightens on the bag's handles –

_A forest green truck in a parking lot. _

_A coincidence._

"I just ate in the food court, so wherever is fine."

"Alright then. I'm probably going to go to bed soon; between traffic and travel I'm exhausted. So sleep well when you've finished with your homework."

Blaine sighs, wondering what it says about his parents that they both check on the status of his homework but leave him in an empty house for weeks at a time. "I will. 'Night, Mom."

In his room, Blaine sets the bag of gifts in front of his nightstand before continuing to his desk. He turns on his docking station and wakes up his computer as he sits in his desk chair.

_Text message from Blaine:_

Back to homework :(

Blaine finishes the Civics assignment he'd started before dinner and reviews his AP English vocabulary before he decides it's time for a break.

_Text message from Blaine:_

Mom's home too. She bought me a book. And sandals…apparently they're hand-made?

_Text message from Blaine:_

I couldn't tell her they're the wrong size. Plus…sandals. No.

_Text message from Kurt:_

At least she got you something?

Kurt answers on the second ring and Blaine wonders if Kurt's voice over a phone line will ever cease to make him smile. He doubts it.

"Hi." Blaine leans back in his chair. "The sandals are the wrong size. I didn't tell her; is that wrong?"

Kurt's laugh through the phone line is still one of the most beautiful things Blaine has ever heard.

"Not terribly. It's not like she can exchange them, and you don't wear sandals anyway."

Blaine makes a hum of agreement before continuing in a quiet, absent voice. "Another impractical item to add to the pile in my closet."

"Oh!" Kurt's voice conveys excitement. "I meant to ask; how was Glee? Did you secure a solo for your next public performance with _Chasing the Sun_?"

Blaine's hand tightened on his phone. "Um, no. Not exactly. I –" Blaine bites down on his lower lip. "I didn't actually sing today."

"Did something happen? I thought –" Kurt's voice is patient, even in confusion. "I thought you planned on going today. You sounded brilliant yesterday."

Blaine sighs and drums his free hand on his desk. "Thanks; I'm glad you thought so. It's just…in Glee today Mr. Schue kept talking about how we should take risks. And that to make sure we don't let anyone down we all have to give all that we can. He said we should put as much effort in as we do to our classes.

"I just –" Blaine leans back in his chair. "I could do better, you know? And extra practice can't hurt; I'll go over it some more once I finish this homework and maybe I'll go tomorrow."

"Blaine." Kurt's voice is warm but determined, and Blaine feels his spiraling thoughts come back to some semblance of control. "I've seen you sing for an audience. And practice. You have _never _given less than your best during a performance. _Never._" Kurt's voice takes on a teasing lilt. "Even when you're serenading less than receptive Gap employees."

Blaine can feel the blush hot on his face even as he laughs. "I thought we agreed never to mention that again."

"I can't seem to recall any such agreement."

"Of course not."

"Well, at least your choice of location improved. Your future serenades were better received."

"I had more reason to impress."

"Did you?" Kurt's voice remains steady, if flirty, in spite of the question.

"Only the best for the love of my life. He's amazing you know," Blaine can practically _see_ Kurt's smile, "and I wanted the world to know it."

"Well, all of McKinley is close enough, I suppose."

"It was your world, at the time. Besides, your classmates needed to know that Kurt Hummel was off the market."

"It's not like there was much competition, Blaine."

"Their loss. And the NYADA boys' too – I put on a ring on it, after all."

Kurt's laughter rings, sharp and bright. "Oh my God, Blaine. Beyoncé? Really?"

"She's queen."

"I can't argue with you on that. But I can tell you to finish your homework so you can get some sleep."

"Really? You're cutting me off just like that?"

"Really. I'm terribly selfish, you know. And in order for you to come live here with me – which is what _I _want – you have to graduate. So homework, Blaine." There's a pause, and Blaine is just about to respond when Kurt continues. "And don't worry about Mr. Schue; your song is perfect."

"Homework it is. And Kurt?"

"Yes?"

"I love you."

"I love you too. Now go be productive."

Blaine ends the call with a smile and the assurance that he'll text when he goes to bed. He sets the phone aside and pulls his calculus work forward, rubbing his eyes as he takes in the small print.

He's certain no one but Kurt would ever believe him, but sometimes Blaine really despises school.

* * *

Rachel enters the loft with a frown on her face and Kurt can practically see the thundercloud hovering over her.

It's going to be a long night.

Still, he has to ask. "How was rehearsal, Rachel?"

"What? Oh, it was fine."

"It was?" Kurt's voice betrays his confusion.

"Yes. Why wouldn't it be?"

"Maybe because you just came in here looking like you're on the verge of murder." Santana's voice cuts through the loft, and Kurt sees her looking over the back of the sofa, smirking.

"Oh! I'm not mad because of _rehearsal_," Rachel sounds incredulous. "It's _Funny Girl_."

From his seat at the table Kurt just stares, and a quick glance at Santana proves she's doing the same.

Rachel sighs, and then continues, "Some girl ran into me outside of Starbucks and made me drop my coffee. I hadn't even taken a sip yet! And," Rachel huffs, "she didn't even _apologize_."

On the sofa, Santana laughs, and Kurt covers his mouth with his hand to hide his smile. Rachel eyes both of them before crossing the loft and sitting in one of Kurt's vintage dining chairs.

"I really wanted that coffee, Kurt. It's been a long day."

"Well, lucky for you I just finished brewing some." Kurt nods toward his steaming cup before he stands and goes to the cabinet to grab a mug for Rachel.

Returning moments later, he slides the drink across the table and gives Rachel a small smile. "You'll have to add your own extras."

Rachel reaches for the sugar packets and jar of non-dairy creamer in the center of the table. "Thanks. I know it's not the best for my voice, but I really do need the caffeine." Rachel stirs her coffee. "We're going off script soon and so I need to review _everything_.There's just too much to do: work, classes, homework."

Kurt hums in agreement as he takes a sip of his own coffee. "Seems like everyone is tired – stressed – these days." Setting down his cup, Kurt stares at the swirls before speaking again. "I ended my call with Blaine early. I'm a little worried, actually. He's stressed and –"

"Wait, the hobbit gets stressed? I thought the only time he was anything less than sickeningly happy was when you'd dumped him...you didn't dump him, did you?"

"What?!" Kurt whips his head to the left, facing Santana. "No! I didn't –" Kurt takes a deep breath and waves his left hand, making sure his ring catches the light. "Blaine and I are _engaged _Santana." He tilts his head toward the television, "And I thought you were watching TV."

"Hard to watch when you and Rachel keep gossiping like we're still at McKinley."

"We're not _gossiping_, Santana." Rachel's voice is judging. "And you should really stop listening in on other people's conversations."

"It's a _loft_,Berry. If you want privacy, go some place that has _walls_."

"Now Kurt," Rachel continues as if Santana hadn't spoken, "What makes you think Blaine's stressed?"

"He didn't perform today." He hears Santana groan on the sofa and looks up from his coffee to see Rachel looking less than convinced. "I just – he had planned to go today, but then Mr. Schue said one of his oh-so-helpful comments and Blaine decided he needed more practice. He sounded anxious, Rachel. Blaine doesn't get anxious over Glee performances."

"Damn, Hummel. You're freaked because Tiny Tim put off singing for a day? You two really are the most boring couple. Cute, but _boring_."

"Kurt," Rachel pauses, seemingly searching for words, "I think Santana's right." She holds up a hand for forestall Kurt's reply. "Just – they're preparing for Nationals. It makes sense that Blaine would want to practice. It doesn't sound like he's stressed." A pause. "At least, no more than any other high school senior."

Kurt hums in response, remembering Blaine's nervous, rambling voice; his hesitance with his performance; his slightly pale face and tired eyes; the mention of his parents, the accompanied attempt at nonchalance.

"Maybe," Kurt says in response.

But _maybe not _resounds in his thoughts.

* * *

Blaine startles awake, heart thundering in his chest.

_Pain! The dress shoe moves away, becomes a pair. Morphs into scuffed sneakers._

"_Be a man, Anderson!"_

_A green truck races past, music blaring._

His phone's screen is harsh in the darkness of his room.

2:17 A.M.

Breathe in. _Just a nightmare._

Breathe out. _Just a stupid, stupid nightmare._

Blaine sets his phone back on his nightstand, closes his eyes, and thinks of Kurt.


	5. Chapter 4

Remind Me to Forget

Chapter 4

As the band's final note fades, Blaine takes a moment to catch his breath. He turns and gives Tina a small smile before heading for his chair and taking a drink of water.

Off to the side, Mr. Schue claps with a smile. "That was good, guys. Really good."

Next to him, Tina leans to whisper in his ear. "I still think we could have sped up the tempo."

Blaine suppresses the sigh that wants to escape, the argument having been discussed (and rediscussed) for hours at The Lima Bean, and again after the first run through. Unique had been just as opinioned and certain at the meeting as she had been at lunch when she'd stolen Blaine's phone. Choosing the song alone had taken two hours.

He straightens in his chair as Mr. Schue's voice raises, "– to keep up the practice. We're going to need to bring everything we have for Nationals this year. But we're out of time for today. Keep up your hard work and remember your songs for _News _are due by the end of the week."

Blaine tosses his water bottle into his bag and stands as Sam comes to his side. "I still can't believe _News _is our theme this is week. 'I know most of you are getting feedback from colleges or making plans for after graduation. So I want you all to express that with music.'" The latter is spoken in an imitation of Schue, and Blaine lets out a small laugh.

"Not one of your best impressions, Sam. And you," Tina catches Blaine's arm, causing him and Sam to stop, almost to the door of the choir room, "Are you tired or something? Since when are you quiet during Glee?"

"A little." Blaine shrugs. "Enough to run out of time on that calc quiz earlier."

"Oh." Tina gives a sympathetic look. "At least it's just a quiz; it won't hurt your grade that much."

Blaine hums in response, but Ryder's call for Sam cuts in before he can add to his reply.

"Yeah!" Sam turns back from the doorway to face Blaine and Tina. "I'll see you guys; don't wanna miss my ride!" Quick hugs and two waves later, Blaine and Tina are alone in the choir room.

Blaine follows as Tina tugs his arm and they exit the room.

"Oh!" Blaine stops halfway down the hall. "I forgot my phone in the choir room." He gives Tina a brief hug goodbye and waves when she reaches the door.

Alone in the hall after Tina heads for her car, Blaine slowly walks to the trophy case, remembering the day McKinley had welcomed Glee with open arms; the day he had held hands with Kurt without fear of repercussion.

He then turns and heads back to the choir room, his slow steps echoing in the deserted hallway. In the choir room, Blaine's phone sits on his chair, right where he'd left it.

Minutes later, Blaine slides into his car with a sigh.

_Text message from Blaine:_

Remind me that one unfinished calc quiz isn't the end of my academic career.

_Text message from Kurt:_

I pretty sure it's a rite of passage; everyone fails at least one ;)

_Text message from Blaine:_

You really are the best.

_Text message from Blaine_

…it's still weird going home to people

_Text message from Kurt:_

I love you. And I'm only a call away 3

For the first time since his calculus class, an honest smile crosses Blaine's face. Turning the keys in his ignition, _Wicked _comes through the speakers; Blaine keeps his smile as he pulls out of the parking lot.

* * *

Kurt takes the piece of pie from the counter, stopping to fill a mug of coffee before taking both items to Elliott, who was sitting in one of the booths by a window. He drops off the items with a smile before turning back toward the kitchen.

The diner is fairly empty, despite its customers not adhering to the common meal times prevalent in Ohio. Only four customers currently sit at the scattered tables.

Santana exits the kitchen with a grimace, grabbing Kurt's arm and leading him back to the main floor of the diner.

"Santana, do you always have to drag people around?"

"There's a gay joke in there, but I'll keep it to myself."

Kurt side eyes her as he responds. "Everyone here thanks you for your restraint. Now," Kurt flicks the fingers of his free hand toward the arm currently held hostage, "Why are you pulling me around the diner?"

"Gunther just got a phone call." Santana sighs. "Director of some off off-Broadway show. Wanted to know if we could accommodate his cast and crew."

Realization hits and Kurt forcibly reminds himself that more customers means more tips.

Usually.

"Okay." Kurt drags out the word. "But they're not here yet, so…"

"Congratulations, Hummel: You get to be a man today. We're combining tables."

Releasing his arm, Santana eyes him with a smirk. Kurt shakes his head even as he reaches for the closest chair.

An hour later Kurt fixes the smile on his face as he sets the refilled glasses of Coke and Fanta on the crowded table, making sure the ring on his left hand catches the light as he holds the tray. A few of the customers – Kurt's reasonably certain they're not entirely sober – have some kind of competition involving Kurt and one-liners. At first, the outrageous pick-up lines had been amusing, but Kurt is more than over the joke/contest/game and really just wishes it would end.

"Yo Kurt! Can I get some extra onions?"

"Oh! If it's not too much trouble, could I have some lemons, please?"

Kurt represses his sigh; half of those not taking part in the 'I know the cheesiest pick up line' game had a new request every five minutes.

Kurt's "of course" isn't acknowledged, but over the heads of the numerous cast and crew members he catches Santana's gaze and rolls his eyes. Together they head back to the kitchen, and after requesting the desired items Kurt rolls his neck as he leans against the counter; the customers can wait a minute for their onions and lemons.

"Think they'll give up soon?"

"Hm?" At Santana's nod toward the table Kurt shrugs. "I hope so, but since I can't figure out what their goal is I have no idea." Kurt steps away from the counter as two small bowls are placed on the ledge separating the bar from the kitchen.

"Well it's not to get an up close view of your ring. You've been waving your hand so much I'm pretty sure any one of them could draw a replica."

Kurt can feel the blush staining his cheeks as Santana laughs. He had made sure to show his ring – especially within the past twenty minutes or so – but he hadn't realized he'd been _zealous_.

"You'd think they'd stop, then," Kurt mutters, a bowl in each hand.

"But they haven't. So why not have a little fun?" The gleam in Santana's eye is calculating.

"Fiancé, Santana."

"Come on. Think of the upside, Hummel." At Kurt's raised eyebrow she continues, "Tips."

"I'm not flirting with them, Santana."

Kurt walks back to the table, ignoring Santana's Spanish mumblings until she's out of his hearing range. He sets the two small bowls on the table and is taking a step back when a voice cuts through the table's chatter.

"Are you a fruit? Because Honeydew you know how _fine_ you look right now?"

Two more hours.

* * *

Blaine pushes the grains of rice around on his plate as his parents talk about work and future vacations – the same banal discussion as the past three days. He runs through songs in his head, trying to think of one for this week's Glee assignment, and hopes his parents don't notice the clink of his fork when his father's voice startles him from his thoughts.

"Sorry?"

Blaine's father sighs before looking at Blaine through narrowed eyes. "I was just asking how school's been for you."

"Oh." Blaine glanced down at his plate before returning his father's gaze. "It's fine."

"Just fine? Everything okay?"

"Yeah, yeah, everything's fine. I'm just a bit tired; all my teachers decided to test us this week, so I have a little extra homework."

"But there's no trouble? I know you mentioned getting your girl friend – Tina, right? – to help if you needed it."

"I'm sure Tina would help if I needed it; she's a great _friend_." Blaine's forcibly loosens his grip on his fork and takes a controlled breath, not thinking about his failed calculus quiz.

"I'm glad you have such nice friends at McKinley." Blaine's mother adds, taking a sip of wine, "I was nervous when you decided to leave Dalton; public school doesn't provide the best of reputations."

"No," Blaine's father agrees, "but I'm sure Blaine enjoys having a more…diverse group to spend time with. Plus," his father looks to Blaine, "You have more time for work now, right?"

"I – yes." Blaine nods, ignoring the fact that for his father, 'diverse' refers to different genders rather than races. "I've been helping out at Mr. Hummel's shop."

Blaine's father smiles. "I'm glad to hear it. It's good for young men to get their hands dirty."

"Of course it is." Blaine says his bitter response quietly as he takes a sip of soda.

"What was that, Blaine? I thought with all that singing you'd know to project your voice." The comment is made with a smirk, and the joking tone sets Blaine on edge.

"I said 'of course' – of course you like that I work on cars, sometimes."

"It's a useful skill, Blaine," his father's tone is conciliatory but sharp even as he continues, "It's good to know how to check an engine – work with your hands."

"A _useful _skill." Usually Blaine stays quiet, accepting his father's jibes, but the exhaustion from several nights of waking in terror and the guilt from Glee and his failed quiz have left him stretched too thin; his composure breaks and he snaps in response. "More useful than my singing and playing the piano, right? A _manly _skill; something that 'gets my hands dirty' and makes up for the fact that I'm in love with Kurt?"

"Blaine." His father's voice is controlled, but strong. "Watch your tone."

"My tone? That's what you focus on?"

"I believe you're done with dinner, Blaine. I think you should go finish that homework you mentioned."

Blaine pushes back his chair and stands, leaving his plate as his mother's request. His eyes burn as he exits the kitchen, only to stop when his mother calls his name.

"I thought you might like your drink." Blaine takes the can with a smile and turns for the stairs when she speaks again. "I wish you wouldn't test your father, dear, especially when he's only home for ten days. You know he's tired after being away; you don't have to question every little thing he says. He's not the bad guy, Blaine."

Breathe in. _They're not bad people._

Breathe out. _They can't be_.

Blaine loosens his grip on the aluminum and nods before carefully walking up the stairs. In his room – after flipping the light switch with his free hand – he sets the drink on his desk and turns on the small lamp before dropping into his chair. He pulls his phone from his pocket and almost sends a text to Kurt.

Almost.

Blaine knows a conversation is better than a text message, and Kurt is working anyway. He'll call Kurt later, after he's done some homework.

He sets his phone on his desk, pulls his notebook toward him and reopens his calculus book.

Kurt's working, and they'll talk later.

* * *

Kurt releases a sigh of relief as he closes the book with a snap, having met his self-mandated quota. Sadly, the chapters haven't improved since his conversation with Blaine days before; if anything, Kurt finds the author even more pretentious. Still, the book now has several pale blue post-its scattered throughout its pages, and Kurt's notebook has additional comments as well.

Setting the book aside Kurt goes to his desk and wakes up his computer, smiling at the background image from the day of his engagement. He glances down at his ring – and the clock on his desktop – as he opens his browser to check his e-mail.

Halfway through deleting promotions from NYADA's bookstore and alerts that files had been added to his class's website, his phone buzzes across his desk, startling him even as he smiles at the ringtone.

"Hey. I was just about to call you; you had three more minutes before I started dialing nonstop. Usually we've already talked by now."

Silence echoes down the line before he hears Blaine take a breath. "Sorry, Kurt. I – um, I knew you had work and I didn't want to call in the middle of your shift. But I could have called earlier. I just – dinner was…and then I ended up doing homework. But you're right; it's later than usual."

Kurt's hand had tightened around his phone as Blaine rambled. Kurt knows Blaine: Blaine only rambles when nervous, or stressed.

"Blaine," Kurt knows his voice betrays his worry, but he can't help himself, "Blaine I didn't mean it like that." He pauses, briefly, unsure which part of Blaine's comment he wants to talk about first. Making a decision, he takes a breath and continues. "You mentioned dinner; did something happen?"

"Yeah," a breath through the line, "I um – I guess you could say that.

"I should have just ignored it, Kurt. Really. But I'm just _tired _and he kept…he kept making these little comments. He's made them since he's been home, but today after I failed that quiz I just snapped."

"You're allowed to snap sometimes, you know." Kurt forces himself not to continue; to not give voice to his feelings at the moment - Blaine's already upset.

"He's glad I work at Burt's shop. Apparently it's good for me to get my hands dirty. He said it's a 'useful skill' and I know – I know he said it because he prefers that to Glee. And tonight at dinner…tonight I told him as much."

Kurt closes his eyes and wishes he was in Ohio; wishes he was close enough to give his fiancé a hug. No fairy godmother for Kurt, though. He opens his eyes and he's still in New York, seated at his desk.

"I'm guessing that didn't go over well."

"No, it didn't. But you know the worst part?" Blaine's voice is thick, but tense as he continues. "He didn't deny it. He just – he told me to watch my _tone_." A bitter chuckle has Kurt's free hand clenching on his jeans. "Apparently it doesn't matter that I know he wishes I were straight, but how dare I comment on that fact with a _tone_."

Through the phone, Kurt hears Blaine taking controlled breaths but doesn't comment. He knows how important control is for Blaine, and Kurt can give him that.

"I'm so sorry, Blaine. You shouldn't have to deal with that at home. No one should, really, but you especially don't deserve that. You're amazing just as you are; I wish they could see that."

"My mom said she wishes I'd stop testing him. That he's tired from work. And I know he's tired; he has to be flying all over the world. But Kurt – he didn't deny it. And she didn't, either."

Kurt silently curses Blaine's parents, using words he's certain would have his dad blushing. "I know they're your parents, but they don't get excuses for this, Blaine. They might not realize how it sounds; they might not have even meant it that way, but you're allowed to be upset when your parents aren't there for you."

Blaine laughs sarcastically even as Kurt winces at his wording. "Most of the time they're not even in the state, but they're 'not here for me' when we're in the same house."

"You know," Kurt pauses, his next words hesitant, "You know you're always welcome at my house, right? Dad and Carole love you."

"I know, Kurt. And it's wonderful there. But what does it say about me, that I'd rather spend time with my future in-laws than my own parents, who aren't even home that much? And…it's not – they're not evil people, Kurt, you know?"

Kurt hums in response, "It doesn't say anything about you, Blaine. It just says everything about _them_." Kurt sighs. "And they're your parents, so I know it's difficult, but you shouldn't feel uncomfortable in your own house. If that means spending time with your future in-laws," Kurt hears his voice become softer at the words, "then I want you to always do what is best for you. Regardless of your parents."

"You always know what to say." Blaine's voice has lost its harshness, and the warmth makes Kurt smile. "I love you."

"Well, what a coincidence: I love you, too." Kurt looks to the ceiling, not wanting to say his next words, even though he knows they need to be said. "But Blaine, why didn't you call me earlier? I hate that you dealt with all that on your own and you don't have to, now. It's a perk of being engaged. I thought – I thought you knew I'll always answer."

"I do! I mean, I thought about calling or texting, Kurt. I really did. But I was upset after…everything and I just – I didn't want it to touch you."

"Blaine." Kurt sighs. "I'll admit that part of me finds it sweet that you want to protect me, or something, but Blaine we talked about this. Several times. Communication is important, and I'm glad you did call, and that means a lot – it does – but I wish you'd called earlier. I want – I want to be the one you talk to when you're upset."

"You are!" Kurt can hear the truth in Blaine's voice, "You're the _only person _I want to talk to when I am, actually. But I knew you were at work and I knew we needed to talk and so I convinced myself it was better to wait than text. And then longer I waited the more I overthought it." Blaine's breath hitches before he releases a sigh. "I'm sorry, Kurt."

"You don't need to apologize, Blaine. Really. Just remember to call or text me the next time you're upset, even if you know I'm in class or at work."

"I will. Promise. And Kurt, you know it's not that I don't want to talk to you, right? I just – I love you so much and I don't like when you're upset, especially when it's because of me." That last of the sentence comes out rushed, as if Blaine hopes Kurt wouldn't hear.

Kurt hears every word.

"I can't say I enjoy being upset Blaine; I won't lie to you. But I'd always rather know what's happening, if you're upset and why, than be left in the dark. Okay, Blaine? I'd _always_ rather know."

"I'll tell you, I promise. I can't promise I'll call immediately – it's a hard habit to break – but I'll always let you know the same day. I always _want _to tell you, I just have to remind myself that I should."

"Please do, Blaine, because if you don't I'll kill my phone battery." Kurt forces a little humor in his tone, needing to lighten the conversation. "And we don't want that to happen."

"No, we don't." Kurt smiles to himself as he takes note of Blaine's voice, lighter now. "Kurt Hummel without access to his cell phone; I feel like I should send a letter of warning to New York."

"Just remember to talk to me and it won't be problem. No letters needed."

"I'll call, Kurt, I will. But you will too, right? When – if you're upset?"

"You know I already do. You're my go to guy. And now, I'm hoping I'm yours, too?" Kurt knows he's being repetitive even as the words leave his mouth, but he can't stand the thought of Blaine staying silent in the future.

"Have been for years, Kurt. Never worry about that; I just have to work on my timing." There's a pause, and then Blaine's voice through the phone brims with affection. "Thanks for making me talk, Kurt. I love you."

Kurt smiles into his empty room. "I love you, too. I'm glad I could help."

Blaine hums in response before adding, "You always do."

"It's one of my many talents. So," Kurt draws out the word, "After working on homework for hours; does that mean you're done for the night?"

"Almost. I'm just going to review calc some more…maybe do a few extra problems."

"Sounds exhilarating."

"The joys of high school. Don't act like you don't remember; you were here not too long ago."

"Mm. Point, but I haven't head to deal with calc in a while. It's all theatre history, singing, dancing, and acting. And papers. Lots of papers."

"Well, I know what to expect, at least."

"Aren't you lucky, having a fiancé to let you know what to expect in college."

"The luckiest."

Kurt laughs. "You're a dork, Blaine Anderson."

"You've known that for years. And you still agreed to marry me."

"I don't know what I was thinking, really."

"Liar."

"Maybe. Just a bit." Kurt pauses, wishes he could suspend time. "But you said something about review?"

"Can we pretend I didn't? It's more fun to talk to you."

"If only, but you have calc and I have to research journal articles." Kurt glances at the time even as he yawns. "And sleep, at some point."

"I dislike your logic." The teasing tone takes away any sting from the words. "But you're right; like usual."

"Of course I am. Not that I want to do homework either. And Blaine?"

"Yeah?"

"I'm glad you're okay now, but you promise to call if something happens? Even if you think it's small?"

"I already promised, Kurt, but yes, I'll call or text if I get upset; you'll get sick of hearing my voice."

"Never. But now we have to be good students."

Blaine groans. "Fine, fine. Talk to you later?"

"Mm. Before bed, just like always."

"Love you."

"Love you, too." Kurt ends the call with a touch of his finger, setting the warm phone on his desk.

The echo of Blaine's voice rings in his mind, though; somehow louder than the soft music from his iPod in the corner.

Kurt still refuses to say goodbye, but alone in his room the absence of Blaine resonates.

He pulls up the library's website and ignores the worry still surrounding all thoughts of Blaine.

* * *

Two hours of searching and three possibly helpful articles later, Kurt closes the tab with the library's website with a snap of his wireless mouse. He sips his lukewarm coffee before setting the mug down and stretching, hoping it will alleviate the pinch he feels under his ribs. A quick burst of pain, and then the muscle relaxes and Kurt sighs and slumps in his chair.

His conversation with Blaine replays in his mind, and he absently bites his lower lip. The comments from Blaine's parents aren't a new development, but they are taxing; stress Blaine doesn't need. Kurt isn't sure what to do with the current situation, and wishes – again – that he'd known earlier, so he could have called his father for advice.

Now, it's too late for a phone call; a ringing phone this late signals an emergency, and while Kurt's worry for Blaine has basis, it's not bad enough to warrant the heart pounding anxiety that accompanies such a call. Not at night.

Kurt will call in between classes tomorrow.

He trusts that Blaine will call when things get bad, that he won't attempt to keep his pain to himself, but Kurt also knows how badly Blaine wishes to please everyone. How he simultaneously strives to be himself and keep those around him happy. Kurt knows how much energy it takes to wear a mask all the time; Blaine shouldn't feel the need to wear one in his home.

Kurt knows his dad and Carole care for Blaine, knows that after his call Blaine will get even more invitations to dinner, more hours scheduled at Hummel Tire & Lube. And Kurt will have an ally in Ohio; someone else looking out for Blaine, while Blaine continues to look after Burt.

Kurt's not a fan of manipulation – that doesn't mean he's not adept at using it, especially to look after the ones he loves.

_Text message from Kurt:_

I'm done for the night! My brain can't handle any more articles

_Text message from Kurt:_

I hope you're done soon, too! You need sleep to get through school and helping Dad tomorrow ;)

_Text message from Blaine:_

One and half more problems – then I'll call and we can get ready for bed. :) And I'll get some coffee before heading to Burt's tomorrow.

_Text message from Kurt:_

Perfect plan! :)

_Text message from Blaine:_

I try :D

Kurt smiles and sets his phone on his bed before getting his pajamas. He wishes Blaine were already sharing the loft, there for hugs and whispers and soft kisses, but for now he has an adorable fiancé who sends flirty texts and talks with him every night.

Life isn't perfect; Kurt's mind still holds on to the worry from earlier, but Blaine will call soon.

Kurt smiles.


	6. Chapter 5

Remind Me to Forget

Chapter 5

Blaine dutifully copies the notes his calculus teacher puts on the board, shaking his head a little as he does so. The homework, once again, had not been collected for a grade, and the teacher's voice is just a bit too happy; Blaine wonders how the man can be excited when discussing imaginary numbers and derivatives.

Twenty minutes later, Blaine repeatedly looks from his notes to the white board in his hands, making sure he completed the problem correctly. Tina sits behind him, but until his instructor confirms his answer (and has him flip the board) he's not supposed to talk. Sighing as he glances one last time, Blaine bends his left elbow, raising his hand enough to be seen, but not attract everyone's attention with its height. A minute later, Blaine's heart rate slows, nervousness receding after he receives confirmation his answer is correct.

"So," he stretches as he turns in his seat, seeing Tina doodling in her notebook, "Are you as glad as I am that there's no Glee practice today? I don't know if I could handle practicing that dance routine again."

"It's nice to have the afternoon off. Did you want to get some coffee or something after school?" Tina sets down her pencil and tilts her head toward where their teacher is helping another classmate. "We could work on homework…"

"Mm. Not today. I'm helping out Mr. Hummel."

"So you're too tired to do a dance routine but you can work on cars?"

Blaine's shoulders tighten at the sarcasm in Tina's voice. "It's different, Tina."

It is.

Blaine always feels welcomed at Burt's shop: the same can't be said for the choir room. Glee is wonderful, and he knows he can count on Tina and Sam and Unique and _everyone _if he really needed them for something (his proposal had shown that); unfortunately, Mr. Schue, despite how he tries, isn't as open and caring as Burt, and the day-to-day drama of Glee can cause occasional tension. Usually after working in the choir room Blaine leaves feeling tired and accomplished, but he can also leave feeling frustrated and nervous.

After working in Burt's shop, Blaine always leaves feeling better than when he entered. Even if he's been under cars or bent over engines or just organizing tools, Burt's shop is a refuge, a comfortable space where he does what he can and is appreciated.

He's not sure how to say that to Tina, however. Instead, Blaine shrugs, silently grateful when he's forced to turn around since their teacher is moving to the white board.

His gratefulness leaves when the class is told to turn the page to start a new unit.

* * *

Kurt enters the coffee shop and smiles when he sees Elliott waiting at a table by the window. He moves through the line quickly, and moments later he's sliding into a seat as he sets his cup on the table.

"Hey, thanks for meeting me here. I just didn't feel like going back to the diner when I'm not on shift."

"It's fine, really." Elliott pushes his book aside. "So, things are going well?"

Kurt remembers his conversation with Blaine – his worry. But Elliott hasn't met Blaine, and Kurt isn't in the habit of sharing his worry about Blaine's home life.

"I'm too tired for things to be 'well' by any conventional definition." Kurt shrugs. "I can't really complain though – except about classic theatre. That class is worse than dance with Ms. July."

"I'll take your word for it."

"Mm. You should." Kurt takes a small sip of his mocha, hoping not to burn his tongue. "Anyway, how're you?"

"Glad you invited me for coffee. I think if I'd stayed in my apartment another hour I could classify myself as a hermit." At Kurt's inquiring look he continues, gesturing between them. "Social interaction; let's just say you're the first person I've talked to in person in a while."

"I'm not sure if I should feel flattered or sad on your behalf."

Elliott chuckles and reaches for his coffee. "How about we forget I admitted that fact."

"Not a chance." Kurt drinks another mouthful of coffee. "I'll be sure to remember this fact when we disagree about something for the band."

"Of course you will." Elliott leans back in his chair and smiles. "Speaking of, are we still practicing tomorrow?"

"Unless Santana and Rachel are refusing to speak to one another again we are – the loft at eight."

"Will them not speaking be a common thing? I just – I don't want the band to suffer because they can't focus, you know?"

Kurt finishes his coffee and leans forward, resting his forearms on the table. "I wish I could say that short tempers and drama are rare occurrences, but I don't think a week went by in Glee without some kind of argument." Seeing Elliott's raised brows and worried look Kurt hastens to continue. "We always managed to bring it together for performances though." Kurt pauses, gathering his thoughts. "I think Santana and Rachel – all of us, really – are too competitive to let any argument get in the way of a performance."

Elliott nods but continues to look skeptical. "I guess we'll find out the more we practice."

"Of course." Kurt's about to continue when his phone buzzes on the table, and he flashes Elliott a slight smile even as he reaches for the phone.

_Text message from Blaine:_

I think Mr. Schue's sweater vests are getting worse. I know you didn't think it was possible, but it is.

_Text message from Blaine:_

It offends me, Kurt.

Kurt laughs before facing Elliott and nodding toward his phone. "It's from Blaine. Apparently Mr. Schue – sorry my old Glee director – his fashion sense has gotten worse. And he regularly wears sweater vests and ill-fitting pants."

_Text message from Kurt:_

At least you don't have to stare at it during Glee today. ;)

_Text message from Blaine:_

…that would be bad. I'd be kicked out for being distracted! ;)

Kurt smiles and shakes his head at Blaine's response, and pushes away the worry that comes with Blaine's self-deprecating remark of having to leave Glee. Blaine only puts himself down when he's stressed. He's lost in thought, only looking up from his phone when Elliott begins to speak.

"Sounds like your teacher has an interesting sense of fashion."

"Mm. He does. That's not necessarily a good thing."

Elliott laughs. "I'll take your word for it."

"I'm sure he's in the background in some of our performances on YouTube, should you ever get insanely bored."

"I'll be sure to remember that the next time I'm hit with a bout of insomnia. But," Elliott gestures to his own phone – the screen lit – on the table, "I actually have to get going. I have work soon."

"Oh!" Kurt watches as Elliott gathers his bag and empty cup before standing. "I hope it's not too taxing."

"Not terribly, no, but I need the check regardless." Elliott gestures to Kurt's empty cup. "Want me to throw that away for you?"

"No thanks – I'm going to get a refill; I have some time before my last class. Actually," Kurt stands, "Do you mind waiting here a minute with my bag while I get another mocha?"

Elliott glances at short line before nodding. "Sure."

"Let me take your cup then, since I'm going to the counter anyway."

Two minutes later Kurt's walking back to the table empty handed, answering before Elliott even asks the question. "The barista recognized me, said that she'd bring it out to me since things are slow."

Elliott smirks. "And they say New Yorkers are always rude. Well, enjoy your coffee. I'll see you tomorrow."

They hug, briefly, and then Kurt sits alone at the table by the window. Unlocking his phone, he sees the texts from Blaine – remembers his worry. He debates for a moment, and the sighs, pulling up his contacts. The call connects and Kurt fiddles with a napkin.

"Hey kid."

"Hey Dad. I'm not interrupting anything, am I?"

"Wouldn't have answered the phone if I was busy. So…you gonna tell me what's up or are you gonna pretend you don't have a reason for calling."

"What?" Kurt pauses when the barista brings him his mocha, glad for the moment to gather his thoughts. "What makes you think something's wrong?"

"Kurt." There's a sigh down the phone line. "Even you don't call to check up on me in the middle of the day, so I'm guessin' you want to talk."

Kurt feels an unnoticed tension release at his father's words. He _does _want to talk. And Burt has never dismissed Kurt's worries.

"I – yeah." Kurt lets out a breath. "I do want to talk, I mean."

Kurt takes a sip of his coffee and then begins to talk about Blaine.

* * *

Blaine turns his keys and pulls them out before reaching for his seatbelt, the click of the release sounding unnaturally loud in the car without the engine running. Opening the car door, Blaine steps out, absently patting his pockets to make sure he has his wallet and phone. His keys jangle as he closes the door – it's a quick stop, just picking up some soda before going to Burt's shop – before he turns to head for the Meijer entrance.

A loud laugh catches his attention, and he turns his head to the right. In the next row of cars, on the side closest to Blaine, he sees two sandy-haired college-aged men, talking over a white four door car and –

_A hand grabs his shoulder, spinning him around. A punch pushes him back, further into the arms of his captor. "Sadie Hawkins isn't for gays, Anderson! Hold 'em Mitch. Cover his mouth, too. Can't have him crying, now."_

_A punch. His breath is gone – lost to the hand over his face and the pain in his sides. A kick to his knee and he's sagging, falling to the pavement when the arms holding him fall away. It's cold – _

A corn horn startles Blaine from the memory, and he jerks forward. He cuts across the aisle, walked toward where he'd heard the laughter because he has to check. It can't be them, but like the truck in Burt's shop, he has to check.

Breathe in. _It was years ago._

Breathe out. _There's no reason for any of them to be in Lima._

He nears the opposite side of the aisle, closer now, and he sees –

A sandy haired stranger in an OSU hoodie, getting into a blue Kia Soul.

Blaine pushes his hands deeper in his pockets, shakes his head.

Breathe in. _It's not Mitch and Blake._

Breathe out. _It's a stranger._

Breathe in. _It was years ago._

Breathe out. _It wasn't them._

Blaine slowly continues his walk to the entrance. With each step he tells himself he's not going crazy.

Breathe in. _It was a stranger._

Breathe out. _It wasn't them._

* * *

Burt waves as Blaine enters the garage, gesturing with an arm for Blaine to join him by the engine of a Jeep Cherokee.

"Hey Blaine."

"Hi Mr. Hummel." Ducking his head to look at the engine, Blaine misses Burt's scrutiny as he takes in the shadows under his eyes.

"So how're things going, Blaine?"

"Oh, they're fine." Blaine sighs, "Just a little tired." Blaine is tired; tired enough to see things in garages and parking lots because of recurring nightmares and common cars. Remembering the incident from earlier still weighs on his mind, but he does his best to ignore it. He's sleep deprived, and a stranger had gotten into a blue Kia. Even if there had been a white car, Ford Tauruses aren't exactly rare. His nightmares simply pushed those memories to the forefront of his mind, leaving his brain to make connections at inconvenient times.

More than anything, Blaine just wants a night of uninterrupted sleep.

"Senior year will do that." Burt pauses long enough that Blaine turns to face him. "You sleeping okay? Everything okay with your folks bein' home?"

Blaine remains silent for a moment before slightly shrugging a shoulder. "It's different." When Burt doesn't immediately reply Blaine continues. "Not used to having conversations in our dining room, I guess." Blaine quirks his lips, "Dad leaves for Beijing on Tuesday, though, and Mom's going to a festival in Virginia with some friends on Monday..."

For a moment, Burt seems shocked into silence. "Blaine, I know your dad travels, and I get that he has to go for work. But your mom's only been home, what, a little over a week? And she's leaving in four days?"

A shadow of a smile crosses Blaine's face before he replies. "Mom likes to travel as much as Dad, I think."

"Well," Burt catches Blaine's eyes, "I know you're…used to it, but you're always welcome here and at the house. If you need anything I expect you to be calling or showing up at the door, okay?"

Blaine briefly closes his eyes before opening them and forcing his hands to stay relaxed at his sides. "Thank you, Mr. Hummel." Blaine's voice steadies after the initial crack on his thanks, and he even manages a small smile, hoping it shows his gratitude. "I – Actually I was hoping I could help out again tomorrow? With the teacher workday I have all day free, and my parents are going to Cincinnati for something, so I could come by earlier than usual."

"You know I never say no to some extra help, but are you sure you wanna spend your day off working around here?"

Blaine steps back, his hip leaning on the jeep. "I really don't mind; it's something to do."

"I guess I'll see you tomorrow, then. Don't feel like you have to rush to get here – sleep in, if you can."

Blaine nods his assent before motioning to the jeep. "So, want me to work on this one?"

Burt is quiet for a moment, considering. "We got a minivan coming in for an oil change. Why don't you go take care of that and then you can come back and help me with this."

Smiling, Blaine agrees and steps away moments later when the minivan arrives. Unnoticed, Burt's furrowed brows and concerned gaze watch as Blaine crosses the garage.

* * *

Kurt enters the loft, adjusting the strap of his bag and suppressing a groan at the sounds of Rachel and Santana arguing. He's tired, and had been planning on relaxing for an hour or two before starting on his homework.

"– need to rehearse, Santana! As a rising Broadway star I can't afford to skip a warm up just because a roommate doesn't want to listen. I know it's hard, and your jealousy in understandable, given –"

"You think I'm _jealous_?" Santana hisses, "I'm not jealous, Berry; I'm wishing I could not be woken up at 5 AM by your scales! It's one show, Rachel – your first! So drop the diva act!" Santana pauses but Kurt doesn't move from where he's leaning against the door, afraid to draw their attention. "This may be surprising news, but the world still does not revolve around you!"

"I'm on _Broadway_, Santana. This is my big break! So I'm sorry if my success is making you feel uncomfortable –"

Kurt winces at Rachel's words as Santana moves further from the sofa and takes a step closer to Rachel. "You just can't _stop_ can you? No wonder Frankenteen left you while he had the chance!" Rachel freezes at the mention of Finn, and Kurt resolutely pushes away the ache that accompanies the name. He takes a step forward, preparing to intervene, but Santana continues before he has the chance. "You might have the voice for the stage, but give 'em time. Your personality's going to ruin you."

Santana turns, and heads for where Kurt still stands by the door. Giving a slight shake of his head Kurt steps away as Santana approaches and stops when she touches his arm. "Look – I'm sorry I mentioned Finn, alright? But I meant what I said; she needs to get over herself." Releasing Kurt's arm, Santana opens the door and leaves, her "Going to Dani's" comment barely heard over the closing door.

The loft seems eerily quiet after her departure.

"Rachel…" Kurt walks toward the sofa as his voice trails off, unsure of how to continue.

At the sound of her name, Rachel spins to face him, face hard. "She has to go, Kurt."

Kurt takes a breath, wondering how he ended up playing mediator in other people's drama. "Rachel, Santana's upset and –"

"You're on her _side_?!"

Kurt winces at the screech of Rachel's voice, "I'm not on anyone's side." Seeing the flash of anger-confusion-hurt on Rachel's face, Kurt quickly continues. "I didn't hear everything, Rachel, and I'm not getting in the middle of other people's arguments. Santana snaps when she's angry; it's what she does." Kurt takes a steadying breath, mentally preparing for his next sentence. "But Rachel, you have to remember that you're not the only one who lives here; I am so happy that you got the part, but that doesn't mean that your dreams are more important than ours – you just got a head start."

Rachel remains silent for a moment, staring at Kurt. "I just – I can't fail at this, Kurt. I can't."

"And you won't. You'll be brilliant." Kurt gives a small smile. "But you can be brilliant _and _respectful of your roommates."

At the added comment Rachel's eyes had narrowed, but she stays silent, giving a stilted nod before turning and walking to her room.

Kurt slouches on the sofa, momentarily overcome with exhaustion.

_Text message from Kurt:_

I want cheesecake, Blaine

_Text message from Kurt:_

An entire cheesecake – The stress from Rachel and Santana is worse than school…

_Text message from Blaine:_

So…no different from Glee last year?

_Text message from Kurt:_

You're still not as funny as you think you are

_Text message from Blaine:_

I love you! 3

_Text message from Blaine:_

…Do I need to call certain roommates and tell them to stop harassing my fiancé?

_Text message from Kurt:_

No. I got home in the middle of it. But they're both upset, so…cheesecake

_Text message from Blaine:_

Eat all the cheesecake you want – you deserve it!

_Text message from Kurt:_

Sadly, man can't live off cheesecake alone. :(

_Text message from Blaine:_

You can try! :)

_Text message from Kurt:_

If I ate that much cheesecake I'd need a new wardrobe...and I love my clothes, Blaine.

_Text message from Blaine:_

I love them, too. You always look amazing. But you'll look amazing regardless of what you eat

Kurt breathes out a laugh, feeling some of the tension drain from his shoulders. He slowly rises to his feet and heads for the kitchen; he _does _deserve cheesecake.

* * *

Blaine rinses his dishes before placing them in the dishwasher, their slight clink seeming toecho in the silent house. He'd come home to a note on the kitchen counter, telling him his parents had gone out for dinner. Now, hours later, he's finished civics and calc, and with dinner done all that's left is to read for English.

He's halfway up the stairs when he hears the door open, followed by his parents' murmurs. He briefly pauses and manages two more steps before his mother calls his name. Blaine carefully turns and moments later meets his father in the living room, sitting in one of the recliners.

"Your mom's just putting the leftovers in the fridge."

Blaine nods. "So dinner was good?"

"Once we got our food, yes. We had to wait a while for our drinks, at first." Blaine's father leans back in the chair, relaxing. "How was school?"

"It was fine." Blaine shrugs. "Nothing new."

"You regretting leaving Dalton?"

"What?!" Blaine takes a step forward in shock. "No – no, I like it at McKinley. It was just a regular day, nothing too exciting."

"I see." His father's tone says he doesn't.

Moments later Blaine's mother enters the room, passing by him with a glass of wine in her right hand. "Oh, Blaine. You did hear me…I was hoping you would. I just wanted to remind you that your father and I are going down to Cincinnati tomorrow while you're in school –"

"It's a teacher work day tomorrow." Blaine keeps his voice quiet. "I'm helping out at Mr. Hummel's shop, though."

"I'm glad you're taking my advice, Blaine." His father smiles, "I told you it was good to get your hands dirty. Rebuilding that car together paid off after all."

"I'm glad you have plans, dear." Blaine's mother breaks the silence. "Now, we might not be back til Saturday, so you might be on your own for dinner tomorrow."

"I'm sure I'll manage, Mom." Seeing his father's eyes narrow, Blaine quickly continues, "But I hope you have fun."

Blaine's mother takes a sip of wine before smiling. "I'm sure we will."

"Well," Blaine takes a step back, closer to the entrance of the room, "I have some homework to finish…"

"Calculus?" Blaine father leans forward in his chair. "If you do need a tutor Blaine, you can ask your friend Tina to come by any time."

"It's not calc." Blaine keeps his tone even, ignores the fact that Tina received an open invitation to the house – something Kurt was never given – and meets his father's eyes. "English. I have to do some reading, study vocab."

Blaine's parents nod, and he leaves the room after the requisite 'goodnights' and pats on the back.

In his room, Blaine turns on his music and flops on his bed with his copy of _Wuthering Heights _and assorted accessories. He manages five pages (complete with highlights and two post-its) before he reaches for his phone.

_Text message from Blaine:_

I need cheesecake, too :(


	7. Chapter 6

Remind Me to Forget

Chapter 6

Blaine sleeps in considering it's a Friday, blinking awake and grabbing his phone just before eight in the morning, rather than being awoken by his usual alarm two hours earlier. He considers lying back down and attempting more sleep, but the early morning light filtering through his blinds has him sitting up, blankets falling to his waist. Grabbing clothes from his dresser and closet he then continues to the bathroom to prepare for his day.

Twenty minutes later Blaine's buttering toast and sipping coffee in the kitchen, hoping the caffeine will alleviate the wall-like tiredness behind his eyes.

_Text message from Blaine_

How did we get by before we drank coffee?

_Text message from Kurt_

We had naps.

_Text message from Kurt_

…everything okay? I thought you'd sleep in on your day off.

_Text message from Blaine_

Usually I'm up at 6 on Fridays – this is sleeping in ;)

_Text message from Blaine_

I just woke up…couldn't sleep any more :(

Blaine sets his phone down, staring at his toast as he takes another sip of coffee. He will tell Kurt about his nightmares, but through a text at eight in the morning isn't the way to go about it. He pushes down the slight guilt and startles when his phone buzzes loudly on the counter.

_Text message from Kurt_

Don't let Dad work you too hard

_Text message from Kurt_

Tell him I said to let you have a nap break this afternoon ;)

Blaine huffs a quiet laugh, standing and placing his dishes in the dishwasher, the butter back in the fridge. Filling his travel mug with more coffee, he then takes his phone from the counter.

_Text message from Blaine_

Sadly, since naps stopped being mandatory after first grade I don't think that will happen. I'll take a break when I get tired, though! :)

_Text message from Blaine_

But first I have to get there – have fun in class. Love you!

_Text message from Kurt_

Blaine, fun isn't the adjective for class. But I love you, too. Say hello to Dad for me! 3

Smiling, Blaine assures Kurt he'll do as asked, and grabs his keys, putting his phone in his pocket on his way out the door. Moments later, Blaine starts his car and pulls out of his driveway as _Blackbird _drifts from the speakers. The short drive is relaxing, the streets still mostly quiet, and Blaine pulls into the parking lot of _Hummel Tires & Lube _ready to start the day.

After ensuring that his keys and phone are safe in his pockets, Blaine walks into Burt's shop, offering a small smile and nod to the mechanics who wave hello. Spotting Burt on the phone in his office, Blaine simply gives a quick wave before asking the nearest worker what he should do.

* * *

Kurt enters the vocal practice room and sets his bag by the door before walking to stand in front of the slightly aged piano. Having the room to himself meant setting his alarm hours before his one-on-one with his professor, but if nothing else it made him fully awake by the time of the meeting, a feat since he wouldn't drink coffee until after.

Water might be better for vocal cords, but Kurt still dreams of the coffee he'll have later.

Sometimes, Kurt really hates his drive to do his best, even in practice; he misses his morning mocha.

Letting out a sigh, Kurt sits on the piano bench, playing a few scales to help him focus. At first, his mind wanders, thinking of ways he can help Blaine relax and reduce stress; how he will act in the loft where Rachel and Santana are coolly distant to one another; how many hours until he can get his coffee. Shaking his head, Kurt continues to play, and eventually the repetitive motions clear his mind.

Minutes later, he stands, straightening his posture and taking a deep breath before beginning his warm-up. He loses himself in the scales, voice rising higher as his right hand lightly presses the dulled ivory keys. Finishing, Kurt pulls photocopied sheet music from his bag and places it on the stand. He plays through the vocal portion once, smiling as he mentally puts in breath marks.

Feeling confident in his music, Kurt sings.

Kurt sings through his required pieces and spends time focusing on two measures of runs, stopping only for the occasional drink of water. He continues to sing, practicing and lost in breath control and projection until a blast of sound from his phone startles him.

Spinning, Kurt crosses the room and digs through his bag to unearth the device. He gives a _ha!_ of triumph when he pulls it from his bag, sliding off the alarm. Standing, Kurt goes back the piano, taking his sheet music and water bottle before walking back to his bag and placing the items inside.

_Text message from Kurt_

Off to my Voice one-on-one. Wish me luck!

_Text message from Blaine_

Your voice is amazing – you don't need luck. ;)

_Text message from Blaine_

Still, have all the luck in the world if you want it 3

* * *

After a group lunch at Subway, Blaine's settled into his routine for the afternoon, moving around the garage with ease. While most of the mechanics have their own toolbox Burt makes sure to have spares around just in case they're needed; unfortunately, since the tools are communal, they're frequently left lying around haphazardly, dirtied. Currently, Blaine's slowly making his way around the shop, putting the grease-covered tools into a small box as he finds them, wondering how long it will take him to clean them later. He'll probably end up texting Kurt for tips – Kurt knows every secret for getting grease off just about anything.

Blaine steps around an outdated Chevy and glances for anything he might have missed. To his left Burt is talking to a customer, pointing to the white Taurus a few feet away and nodding. Burt steps to the side to point to something in the car and Blaine catches sight of the customer.

The sound of the box of tools crashing to the concrete floor echoes in the garage, and Blaine feels every eye on him.

Blaine quickly follows, ignoring the jarring in his knees from the harsh floor. He places the box right side up, and begins reaching for the scattered tools –

_The concrete is cold beneath him, dull and unforgiving. The blackness stretches like an abyss, broken only by the blurry outline of scattered petals of his boutonniere and the circle of shoes that surrounds him. "I think they're down, Steve. Damn homos couldn't even put up some fight to make it fun." Blaine sees a shoe move, feels a pop as his arm is forced away from his body. "Yeah, they're down alright, Mitch. Whaddaya say, Blake, think they've had enough?" There's laughter and the shoes leave. The blackness is growing, briefly broken by brightness and streaks of green and white, but then all encompassing, taking Blaine, too._

Blaine shakes his head and methodically refills the box, keeping his eyes down. "Blaine." Blaine jumps at the sound of his name, dropping the pliers back to the floor with a _clang!_ and probably scuffing his shoes in the process.

"Blaine," This time Blaine meets Mr. Hummel's – Burt's – gaze, "Why don't you leave it, kid. Go have a seat in my office. Looks like you could use a break."

Blaine opens his mouth to protest, but something in Mr. Hummel's gaze stops him, so he simply nods his agreement before stepping away.

Burt keeps an eye on Blaine, ensuring he reaches the office, while quickly tossing the tools back in the box.

Finished minutes later, he stands, waving away the attempted questions from his employees. He makes sure they know to tell anyone waiting he'll be back momentarily, and heads for his office.

* * *

"You gonna tell what that was about, kid?" Burt's leaning against the desk in his office, taking in Blaine's pale face and clenched hands.

Blaine flinches at Burt's voice, almost tripping over the chair when he steps backwards in his haste. "Oh! Um, sorry, Mr. Hummel. I thought –" Blaine's voice trails off before he seemingly pulls his polished upbringing around him like a shield. "He reminded me of someone from a few years ago. But it's nothing, Mr. Hummel, I'm sorry for the disruption." Blaine even ends his words with a small smile, like that would make Burt forget the crash as Blaine had dropped a pile of tools earlier, forget the shocked-pale face of someone who had seen their worst nightmare, before Blaine had fallen to his knees to pick up the scattered pieces, dropping – momentarily – out of Burt's sight.

"Blaine," Burt keeps his voice calm, open. Trying to channel the kindness of Kurt's mother; the honesty of Carole. "I don't care about any 'disruption' and you should know that. We're gonna be family and I wanna know what caused you to react like that, because I know you, Blaine, and you're not prone to theatrics over something small."

Blaine's shoulders fall, as if he's failed in some way before he meets Burt's gaze. As he takes the two steps back to sit in the chair he'd almost tripped over earlier, Burt notices he's trembling.

"I –" Blaine pauses and twists his hands, seemingly searching for words, "The customer earlier. The one you were talking to when I – when I messed up, what was his name?" The words are even, flat, spoken with a calmness Burt hadn't known Blaine was capable of. The earnest young man he'd come to know as his future son-in-law was carefully hidden.

Burt reaches up and briefly palms the back of his neck, wondering where this is going, "First of all Blaine, you didn't mess up, you got that?" Burt waits until he's received a weary nod, "Okay. The customer? John Fields. Car broke down, broken alternator, on their way back to-"

"Marysville." The word is a whisper and a scream all once, sounding as if it's been punched out of Blaine.

Burt steps around the desk stooping to crouch before Blaine, silently taking in the short, panicked breaths and tightly crossed arms.

"Yeah Blaine," Burt slowly reaches his hand forward, showing intent, but Blaine still flinches when it touches his shoulder, "You mind telling me how you know that? What's going on, kid?"

Burt suppresses his frustration when Blaine closes his eyes, refusing to meet Burt's gaze even as he begins to speak, "Do you remember Kurt's Junior Prom? How – how you were worried about Kurt's amazing kilt and how it might bring the wrong sort of attention?" Blaine lets out a quiet breath, "I know he told you about what happened to me. Before Dalton." Burt feels his stomach sink with a coil of dread, "I um, I went to Marysville High, sir, and Mitch Fields was one of the guys who – who took offense to my going to Sadie Hawkins." Burt wants to pull Blaine to him, to shush him as he would a small child, but it seems like the floodgates have opened, and the kid's still talking, voicing nightmares Burt aches to forget. "And I'm sorry for dropping the tools earlier, and I probably wouldn't have but I saw the truck at the mall last week and Steve – I mean, I thought did. But then I thought I was going crazy, because Marysville isn't even near here and they would have graduated by now, anyway. But Mr. Fields is in your shop, and then yesterday at Meijer I thought – but what if he's here? I should – I should go."

Burt's grip on Blaine's shoulder tightens, "Stay right there, Blaine. If you think I'm going to let you out of this office, much less into your car right now, then you need to rethink your plans. You're going to sit here while I go finish up – call Kurt, if you want – but you're going to be here when I get back and then we're going to have a talk over coffee and some cookies."

Rising to his feet, Burt squeezes Blaine's shoulder to show his support. He pauses on his way out the door, watching as Blaine impersonates a statue rather than reaching for his phone. With an inaudible sigh, Burt exits his office with clenched fists and determined steps.

John Fields gives a small wave as Burt approaches, "Everything okay there? Sounded like something fell."

Burt would never understand why people felt the need to point out the obvious and yet still pose it as a question.

He gives a tight smile, "Yeah, he's – everything's fine. Now, like I was saying, only problem is the alternator, and I can have one of my guys install one today."

John gives a loose smile, oblivious to the change in Burt's demeanor, "That'd be great, thanks. My son's gotta get back to OSU, you know? He's a Sophomore down there, lovin' the college life. Keeps talking about classes and some frat or another. Makes me feel old. But he got a scholarship – boy's got a good head on his shoulders."

Burt resolutely pushes down the urge to ask what kind of father could be proud of a son who beats up someone three years their junior. He's a professional, and as a Congressman he couldn't get arrested for assault – it would end more than just his career – especially when, technically, he couldn't be certain this was the same Fields family. "Well, it shouldn't take too long. You can wait in the lobby and we'll get you when it's done."

"Sounds great, Mitch'll be happy he can still head back tonight."

Burt's blunt nails dig into his palms.

"I'm sure."

"You know how young men are. Need their freedom. You said you got a son, right?" He just keeps talking, and Burt wonders how someone could be so immune to body language.

"He's in New York," Burt says tersely, "doesn't have much need of a car there."

"Ran off to the big city, huh? Good luck with that. I worry enough about what Mitch could be learnin' at OSU, don't know what I'd do if he'd gone that far."

Burt gives an absent grunt of acknowledgment, "Right. Well I'll have one of the guys get started on this for you, and he can answer any questions you might have. I've got to head home myself, have some family issues to address."

"Your boy's not causing trouble, is he?" Burt pays no heed to the humor in John's voice.

"No." Burt says, turning away with eyes already seeking the stone form seated in his office.

* * *

Seated at the table in the Hummel-Hudson kitchen, Blaine listens to the coffee dripping in the pot on the counter, watches as Burt happily unearths cookies from the back of a cabinet.

"Chocolate chip." Burt smiles as he slides the cookies on the table, "They were on sale and I figured we could use some comfort food in this house. Besides," Burt catches Blaine's gaze, "Carole seems to enjoy them, even if she'd never buy them herself. And don't worry; I never eat more than two, so you don't have to go calling Kurt."

Blaine manages a weak smile and Burt turns to pour the freshly brewed coffee. "Now," he says, setting a steaming mug before Blaine and taking the seat next to him, "I'm not gonna force you to talk about it, kid, but you're smart enough to know keeping all this inside isn't healthy, and I've been told I'm a pretty good listener."

For several moments, Blaine remains silent, entranced by the curling steam of his coffee and the pile of cookies before him. "How much did Kurt tell you?"

Burt chews a bite of cookie before answering, "Just the basics. I know three guys put you in the hospital after a Sadie Hawkins Dance. That you had months of recovery and PT. That afterwards you were transferred to Dalton, for your own protection."

"I ran away, you mean."

"No." Burt pushes a few of the cookies closer to Blaine, "You didn't 'run away', Blaine. You stayed safe. And I am so glad you did." At Blaine's incredulous look he continues, "What do you think Kurt would have been like if you hadn't been at Dalton? If you weren't there for him at that Prom? You got away from the situation and were there for Kurt, and I'll always be grateful for that, Blaine."

Blaine slowly sips his coffee, replaying Burt's words in his mind. "They made me go to therapy, you know. But the whole time, when I had sessions with her, during recovery, even when they transferred me – they never once – my parents never once admitted that it happened because I was gay. They told their friends how horrible it was, that I was such a good patient when it came to doing my exercises. But the cause…it wasn't discussed. It's the thing we don't talk about. Like if it's not mentioned it's not real.

"At least Steve – at least Steve and Mitch and Blake told me what was wrong. How dare the gay kid go to a dance, right? I mean, they got their point across with kicks and punches, but they talked too." Blaine glances up to see Burt clutching the coffee mug, tendons standing out against the bend of his fingers. "I don't remember everything, apparently that's common with head injuries. But I – I know that Steve was angry, that Mitch and Blake added to it. I remember laying there as they joked about how I hadn't even made the fight interesting – they pulled my shoulder out of socket then, I think."

Burt stares at Blaine, wondering how someone who had gone through that much trauma had found the courage to stand up and ask the male Prom Queen to dance, how he managed to make it to the dance in the first place. These damned kids, Blaine and Kurt both, had more strength and bravery than men twice their age. And they didn't even recognize it.

"Blaine," Burt puts a comforting hand on Blaine's shoulder, ignoring the slight flinch at his touch, "You ever talk about this before?"

Blaine gives a slight shrug, "The therapist, um, she was more focused on the recovery rather than 'dwelling on the past' or something. She taught me some exercises in case I ever felt panicked or had a flashback –

Breathe in. Think of one thing.

Breathe out. Rationalize.

Breathe in. Repeat

– But we didn't talk about the dance, much. She never mentioned that I was gay, either."

Burt's hand tightens a bit, "What about your police statement?"

Now Blaine's eyes closed, "Oh. By the time I was awake enough to give one it had been a few days. There wasn't any evidence. I mean, everyone who had gone to the dance had washed their clothes by then, and without it my words were just hearsay – and I had a concussion too, so I wasn't the most reliable witness."

Burt waits while Blaine blows out a breath and opens his eyes, "Are you tellin' me that those guys weren't punished?"

Blaine nods, "It was one of the reasons Detective Snyder suggested to my parents that I switch schools. Without evidence, it could have been any of a hundred kids that did it." Blaine takes a sip of lukewarm coffee, "I started at Dalton the following fall."

Burt sits in silence, piecing together the story Blaine's shared, filling in the gaps where Blaine had trailed off.

"You are so brave. You know that, right?"

Blaine's cheeks flush, but he doesn't reply.

"Blaine." Slowly, Blaine raises his eyes, meeting Burt's gaze. "You are. Don't let anyone ever tell you different."

Blaine sits silently, taking in controlled breaths and blinking to hide shining eyes. "I – um, thank you." A pause and then he continues, speaking in the same voice Burt had heard earlier in his office. "But I am sorry for dropping the box, earlier."

"Nothing to apologize for, kid. But I have a question for you now. You don't have to answer, but I'd like it if you did." Blaine meets Burt's gaze and nods so Burt continues. "Earlier in my office you mentioned something about Meijer and the mall. Something happen?"

Blaine slowly sips more coffee eyes focused on the table, and Burt forces himself to stay patient. To not force the conversation even as the seconds tick by in silence. "I don't –" Blaine sighs before starting again. "I thought I saw his – um Steve's – truck at the mall a couple of weeks ago. But I'm sure I didn't. Green trucks are pretty common, and I didn't see him directly." Blaine pauses again, breaks a cookie in half and sets it back down, uneaten. "Yesterday, before – before I came to the shop I stopped by Meijer to get some soda. After I got out the car I thought I saw Mitch with his Ford, but when I got closer there wasn't even a white car around, just some guy I don't know. So really, I'm just seeing things that aren't there."

"Blaine." Burt leans forward in his chair, resting his arms on the table and waiting until Blaine looked up to continue. "Now I don't know about what happened at the mall, but today in the shop, Mr. Fields mentioned his son," Burt forces his hands to relax when Blaine hunches his shoulders at the mention. "Said he was helping a friend move, but he's usually down in Columbus, going to OSU." Burt watches as Blaine stays tense, hands curved around his coffee cup. "He _could _have been at Meijer yesterday, kid, but he was just passing through."

Blaine visibly relaxes in the chair, even if only by a fraction and picks up half of the discarded cookie. "Oh."

"Yeah." Burt reaches up and briefly removes his cap before putting it back on, hoping to ease some of the tension thrumming in his body. "Blaine," Burt's voice carries across the table, sure and strong, "If this – if you ever want to talk about this, you know you're always welcome here. Any time."

Blaine swallows half of the broken cookie, eyes bright as he nods. "I haven't told Kurt yet. I know I should; that I need to. I just –" Blaine lowers his head, his voice a quiet murmur, "I don't want him to worry."

"We have that in common, then." Blaine raises his head, and Burt sees the surprise and confusion there. "I get it, Blaine. You don't want your loved ones to worry about you. But you know what? Not sharing something isn't going to make them _not _worry; it just makes them hurt and confused, too. And Kurt," Burt sighs, "Kurt worries with the best of them, especially about the people he loves. And you know how much he loves you."

Blaine finishes his coffee and stares inside the empty mug before looking to Burt. "I know he does. And I want to talk to him, I just…I don't know _how_. Every time I think about it the words get messed up and he deserves to be happy in New York, not worrying about me because I'm suddenly upset about something that happened years ago." Blaine averts his eyes and his words come out burdened, "I don't know what to say."

Burt stands and grabs the coffee pot, refilling his cup before turning to Blaine, filling his as he stands to Blaine's left. "You know, I respect your relationship with Kurt. I trust you two and it's not my business to interfere, but Blaine, I can tell him. If you're not sure how to, I can give him the basics and then you can explain. But he needs to know, Blaine.

"That being said," Burt pauses and waits for Blaine look up, "You should tell him, Blaine. You two are getting married, and no marriage works without communication. I know you two love each other; anyone with eyes can see that. But you two loved each other when Kurt first left for New York too. And you boys didn't talk and look what happened. I don't want a repeat of that – you two deserve to be happy, and you're happiest with each other." Burt takes a sip of coffee. "He deserves to know, Blaine, and it's your right to tell him."

Blaine closes his eyes, feels like he's running away again when he considers Burt's offer. "I know he needs to know. And I'll tell him everything, but…I can't start it. I don't – I'm sorry."

Burt pulls Blaine into a light hug before stepping back. "No need to apologize Blaine. I can't say I think it's the best option, but you need to feel comfortable and I know this is difficult. Now, you eat some more cookies and I'll bring you the phone once I'm done."

"You're calling him now?"

"No time like the present." Burt gives Blaine's shoulder one last squeeze on his way out of the kitchen, coffee cup in hand. Entering the living room, he sets the steaming mug on the end table before settling in his chair and burying his head in his hands.

Why is it always the kids?

Sighing, Burt lowers his hands and reaches for the phone, hating a phone call that hasn't yet happened.

Only to be interrupted when Blaine steps into the living room.

"You need something?"

Blaine further enters the room and sits on the sofa. "No. I just…You're right. I should tell him. I didn't think I could – I still don't know _how _I'll say it – but I should. But maybe," Blaine briefly meets Burt's gaze before looking at his hands, "You could stay here while I call?"

Burt smiles and hands Blaine the phone. "I'm not goin' anywhere, Blaine."

* * *

Kurt sits at his desk, eyes switching between EBSCO and his Word document. His paper has a skeleton now, but he needs an electronic source, and finding a relevant journal article is proving to be difficult. He's alone in the apartment, Rachel and Santana still avoiding one another as much as possible, so the only sound outside of his keyboard comes from his docking station in the corner. As the pdf downloads, Kurt leans back in his chair, stretching his arms in front of him.

And nearly falls out of his chair when his phone buzzes and plays _Home _while slightly moving across his desk.

Quickly dropping his arms, Kurt reaches for the phone and answers the call.

"Hey Dad."

"Not quite."

"Blaine! Calling from the house; did you end up taking a nap?"

"No. Your dad invited me to the house for a snack. I'm not interrupting anything important, am I?"

Kurt glances at his computer and lets out a small laugh. "No, definitely not."

"Good. That's – that's good."

Kurt freezes. Blaine is hesitant, searching for words. Kurt's grip tightened on his phone.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong, exactly. I just –"

"Don't try to change the subject, Blaine."

"I wasn't. I –" Blaine sighs down the phone line. "You know me too well."

"Hm." Kurt minimizes the windows on his computer and stands, moving to sit on his bed. "I do. Now talk to me."

"I want to. I'm trying." Another sigh followed by a humorless chuckle. "This _is _hard, but your dad –"

"My _dad_?!" Kurt sits up from his reclined position on his bed, heart racing in his chest. "Blaine what –"

"Kurt!" Blaine interrupts. "Kurt I'm trying to tell you. I _will _but you have to promise me you'll calm down. I need you to listen."

Blaine's brittle voice breaks through Kurt's spiraling thoughts, and he takes a breath to steady himself. Blaine needs him to be calm.

"Of course. I'm sorry – I'll listen, Blaine. It's what I'm here for."

"I know…Just, let me talk, please. I'll tell you everything, I promise, but for now I just need you to listen."

And Kurt does.

He bites his lips and clenches his phone but he stays silent. He doesn't speak as Blaine's tight, flat voice describes past events; he keeps his promise until Blaine's voice catches and breaks, the next words a rush Kurt can't understand.

"Blaine!" Kurt hears murmurings on the other end of the phone, and then his father's voice comes through the line.

"Kurt. Kurt he's fine…just needs a breather. So I'll tell you what I know and then you two can talk all you want."

Kurt listens as his father describes what happened earlier in the day and how Blaine came to be at the house. Kurt can feel his heart racing again, feels his short nails biting into the skin of his left hand, feels his right aching from its grip on his phone. As his father finishes Kurt briefly closes his eyes and takes a few calming breaths.

"Dad." Kurt's voice trembles and he swallows, starts again. "Dad. He's gone, right? The customer from earlier?" Kurt can't bring himself to say the name. "Blaine shouldn't have to ever see them again. He's gone, right? Tell me he's gone."

"Jim got him squared away about twenty minutes ago; he's gone, Kurt. And like I told Blaine, seems like they were just passin' through – he had no intention of staying in Lima."

Kurt sags on his bed, hands relaxing as he lets out a breath. "That's good."

"It is. Now Blaine just walked back in, so I'll talk to you later, okay?"

"Of course. Thanks, Dad…for everything. I love you."

"Love you too."

"Hey, Kurt."

Kurt blinks back tears, feels the last of the tension he hadn't realized he was carrying drain away at Blaine's voice. "Hey, Blaine."

"Sorry about earlier; I didn't – I didn't mean to leave."

"Don't even worry about it." Kurt scoots back on his bed, settling against his pillows and mentally preparing for the rest of the conversation. "But Blaine…why didn't you tell me? We talk _every _day. I thought – I thought we were beyond keeping secrets from each other."

"We are!" Blaine's voice is a cry and a promise. "I swear we are, Kurt. I just – I didn't have any proof. Until today in your dad's shop I never knew for certain that anything had happened. I thought my nightmares just had me seeing things, making connections between what I saw in my sleep and what I see when I'm awake." Blaine takes a breath, and his next words are earnest, heartfelt. "Things have been so perfect, Kurt. Amazing. And I didn't want to ruin it." Blaine pauses and his next words are quiet. "I didn't want you to worry."

"Blaine," Kurt sighs, "I can't imagine what you went through – what you're _going _through, but I'm here for you. You supported me within minutes of our first meeting: it's my turn. But I can't if you don't let me. And Blaine?" Kurt bites his lip as he waits for Blaine's 'hm' in reply. "It hurts me, thinking about you going through this _alone_. We're a team, Blaine."

"I am so sorry. So sorry, Kurt." Blaine's wet voice cracks through the phone line. "I wanted to tell you. I really did. I just – telling you would have made it real for me. And Kurt…I'm seeing things because of _nightmares_. I didn't want to make you worry because of a few bad dreams."

"I already worried; I just didn't know why. I could tell you were tired and stressed but I couldn't figure out what had changed. I love you, Blaine. I'm going to worry about you anyway."

"I know, and I'm sorry, Kurt. I'm really, really sorry."

Despite the fear and uneasiness hovering in his mind, Kurt huffs a laugh. "I'm really starting to get sick of you saying 'sorry' Blaine."

Blaine gives a weak laugh as well. "Sor– it's hard habit to break!"

"How about instead you promise to talk to me. You have a nightmare, or see something, or you _think _you see something, call me. Or text. I'll reply as soon as I can."

"I promise, Kurt." Blaine's voice echoes with the beginnings of humor. "You're going to get sick of me."

Kurt smiles. "Never. And Blaine?" Kurt's voice rings with concern, "If you're worried, or things get worse, find someone to talk to… Miss Pillsberry, or a doctor, or therapist. If you think it will help, do it. I won't think any less of you; I never could."

"I hope it doesn't get that bad."

"Me too, but if it does," Kurt pauses, the possibility hanging in the air, "Don't hesitate, Blaine."

"I won't." Blaine's conviction is strong, even if tinged with tiredness.

"I'll hold you to that. Now," Kurt lightens his voice, "Why don't you try and take that nap? I'll make sure Dad wakes you in time for you to get home before dark."

"Hm. I'm actually," Blaine's voice breaks on a yawn, "Your dad said I could stay here tonight; Mom and Dad are in Cinci."

Kurt winces at the reminder of Blaine's parents even as he smiles at the mention of his own. "Well then you've got it all covered. Get some sleep, Blaine. And Dad'll tell me if you don't."

"Tattle-tale."

Kurt laughs. "I'm marrying a five year old."

"Mm. You love me, though."

"Until my dying day."

"Too tired to sing."

"Go to _sleep_, Blaine."

After instructing his father and giving him a more detailed description of his day, Kurt says goodbye and ends the call. He leans back, getting comfortable and thinking over all the information he's received in the last hour and a half. He closes his eyes, letting the music from his iPod drift over him.

_And I could write a song_

_A hundred miles long_

_Well, that's where I belong_

_And you belong with me_

_And I could write it down_

_Or spread it all around_

_Get lost and then get found_

_Or swallowed in the sea_

_Text message from Kurt_

Courage.


	8. Chapter 7

Remind Me to Forget

_Author's Note: Sorry this is late! I was without Internet for a bit (long story) and my roommate was...Anyway, I hope you enjoy!_

Chapter 7

Blaine wakes in Kurt's old room, in borrowed clothes and surrounded by the smell of the Hudson-Hummel's laundry detergent. Blinking to clear the sleep from his eyes, he sits up and checks the time on his phone – 9:02. A.M. Setting the phone back down on the end table Blaine takes in the space, smiling at the sight of Kurt's prom scepter on the bookcase. The room holds a wealth of memories that make Blaine smile, but it still feels off – like rereading a childhood favorite and not finding the same joy.

Standing, Blaine crosses the room and grabs his clothes from where he'd left them the night before, and then heads for the shower.

_Text message from Blaine:_

Morning! :) I'm stealing your pajamas, btw

_Text message from Kurt:_

Thief! 3

Later, feeling refreshed if awkward in yesterday's clothes, Blaine smiles and wishes good morning to Burt and Carole as he enters the kitchen.

"You sleep alright?" Burt's voice is scratchy with sleep, his mug of coffee steaming in front of him on the table. Burt then stands, pouring another mug and setting it to the left of his seat, nodding to Blaine.

Blaine nods and reaches for the mug, taking a sip and hiding a wince at its temperature. "Thanks for the coffee."

"Mm. Wasn't sure what you'd want to eat."

"I'm afraid we're out of eggs," Carole adds, standing by the counter where she's unloading the dishwasher, "There's cereal though, and I think there's some oatmeal."

Blaine turns to face her and gives a small smile. "Whatever's easiest is fine – I can even just have coffee," Blaine nods toward his cup, "I have to head back home soon anyway."

"You barely touched your dinner last night." Burt's comment has Blaine turning back to face him, taking in the sympathetic but slightly stern gaze. "I understand why you weren't that hungry, but you can't go skipping meals."

"Well then." Carole's smooth voice breaks the silence. "Come over here and pick something to eat, Blaine."

Blaine ducks his head even as he pushes back his chair and stands, taking the bowl Carole presses into his hand. "Um. Cereal?" Carole points to the cabinet to his left before turning and getting the milk from the fridge.

Seated at the table minutes later, Carole meets Blaine's gaze. "You said you have to leave soon – meeting up with your friends?"

Blaine swallows his spoonful of cereal. "No, I have to practice some songs on the piano for Glee, and it's easier when the house is empty."

Not a lie. But not the whole truth, either.

"I thought you kids loved an audience."

Giving Burt a weak smile Blaine shakes his head. "Not always, and practicing the same four measures for twenty minutes can be…trying for an audience. Or so I'm told."

"Music is music," Carole says with a slight shrug, "And you play beautifully, Blaine."

"Thanks." Blaine ignores the blush he feels staining his cheeks.

"What're you practicing?" Burt questions, as he refills everyone's cup before retaking his seat, "Anything I know?"

Blaine thinks over the sheet music on his piano as he eats some more cereal. "You might, actually."

Seeing the expectant look on Burt's face Blaine continues, glad to talk about something he enjoys.

* * *

"Rise and shine, Hummel!" Kurt starts at Santana's voice, jolting forward from his relaxed position on his bed – and dropping his book – as drowsiness flees. In front of him, Santana stands at the foot of his bed, dressed and holding out a jacket.

"I – what?"

"C'mon Hummel. You're buying me breakfast."

"Excuse me?" Marking his place in his book, Kurt moves to the edge of his bed, feet resting on the floor.

"I know you talked to Little Diva the other night after I left; now it's my turn to talk with the world's best gay." The smirk Santana wears makes Kurt wary.

"Santana…" Kurt stands anyway, taking the jacket from her outstretched arm. "I'm still not taking sides, but I'll go with you to talk so it's even."

"And buy me breakfast."

"You're delusional."

"Didn't you know?" Santana winks. "The man _always _buys when out with a lady."

"We're both _gay _Santana; this isn't a date." Shrugging on his jacket Kurt narrows his eyes. "And you're _certainly _not a lady."

Half an hour later, they're seated at one of the tables in a bagel shop, Kurt having paid when Santana gleefully told the cashier the orders were together.

"So," Santana says after swallowing a bite of egg and cheese bagel, "What are we gonna do about Rachel?"

"I told you I'm not taking sides in this argu–"

"We could have her pay double in rent," Santana interrupts, "Once for her and once for her ego. Some extra spending money would be nice."

Kurt sighs and takes a sip of coffee, debating if he should comment or just let Santana vent. His hand jerks when Santana snaps her fingers inches away from his face, a few drops of coffee splashing onto the lid and over his fingers. "Santana!" Kurt sets his coffee down, grabbing a napkin to wipe his hands. "What?"

"You were quiet."

"I am never buying you anything ever again."

"It's bad to tell lies, Hummel." Santana smiles as she sets her half eaten bagel on her plate and takes a sip of coffee. "Besides, we're talking about a certain roommate with an ego problem."

"You were talking; I'm eating my breakfast."

"Kurt."

"What do you want me to say, Santana?" Kurt eyes his sandwich before sighing and continuing. "Rachel has an ego; she's always _had _an ego – it's not like this is anything new."

"It's different when she's in the same living space, waking me up at all hours and being self-important because she can't be bothered to care about anyone else."

"That's not fair."

"I'm sorry," Santana's voice takes on a cutting edge. "Are you fine with her always getting first shower and singing at ungodly hours because she thinks it's some right?!"

"I –" Kurt takes a bite of his bacon egg and cheese bagel, using the time to think of his response. "Rachel's going through a lot right now, and…"

"We're all going through a lot right now," Santana's voice is surprisingly soft. "She's not the only one who lost someone; she doesn't get to use that as an excuse to treat the rest of us like trash."

Kurt offers a half smile and a nod before taking another bite of his breakfast. "Just…try to tell her again." Kurt pauses and catches Santana's gaze. "Preferably without yelling and condescension."

Santana narrows her eyes. "Very funny. So," She takes a sip of her coffee. "You gonna tell me why you look like hell?"

"I do _not _look like hell, Santana."

She ignores his glare. "You're about two layers short of normal and the circles under your eyes would make a panda jealous."

"I don't have the most hospitable of roommates." Kurt finishes his bagel and grabs another napkin.

"Please, like we could stress you out that much. That's – oh!" Santana claps leans forward and clasps her hands on the table. "What'd the hobbit do?"

"His name is _Blaine_ – would you stop calling him that? – and he didn't do anything."

Santana stays silent, smirking.

Kurt sighs and slouches in his chair. He won't tell her about Blaine's past, about the flashbacks; he'd never betray Blaine's trust in that way. But, it would be nice to share something, even if he is talking to Santana. "I'm just…worried about him. His parents are – they're not home often, so it's an adjustment for him when they are. And he's waiting to hear back from NYADA and he's stressed because –" Kurt catches himself, restarting, "He's tired and upset and I love him, Santana, so I lost a little sleep." Kurt shrugs. "I just worry."

For a moment Santana stays silent, looking over Kurt. "You're hiding something, Hummel, but obviously you don't feel like sharing so this once I'll let it slide." Santana then finishes her sandwich. "But really: _you're 'worried'_ – that's your reason?" Santana gives a disappointed sigh. "Damn you've gotten boring since you got that ring."

Kurt glances at the ring in question, taking in the glinting light. "I think I got the better end of the deal." Kurt smiles. "I love this ring."

"Please stop with the cliché lines. You're going to make me regret breakfast."

"It would be fair," Kurt muses, "Since you didn't actually pay for it."

* * *

Blaine focuses on the sheets in front of him, counting out beats as he focuses solely on the notes in the treble clef, and jerks his hands back in frustration when he once again misses hitting the correct chord on beat. Sighing, he leans back on the bench and closes his eyes, taking a breath to keep from yelling. Shaking his head and opening his eyes, Blaine reaches for his phone and snaps a picture.

_Text message from Blaine:_

[photo] Evil piano music! :( Do you think I could convince Glee to change songs?

_Text message from Kurt:_

Possibly, but I can't say it would be worth the stress from switching after preparing something else

_Text message from Kurt:_

Besides, you're a genius on the piano! You can do it! :)

_Text message from Blaine:_

Reliving your cheerleader days?

_Text message from Kurt:_

…There was no jumping.

_Text message from Kurt:_

Just encouraging you because I can :)

_Text message from Blaine:_

:) Thanks!

_Text message from Blaine:_

p…Okay, back to practice. Wish me luck!

_Text message from Kurt:_

You'll get it!

Blaine gives a quiet laugh and sets his phone aside, focusing on the thirty-seconds followed by the chord and plays each note individually, idly wondering if there's a way to make each note a whole rather than something so fast his fingers press the wrong keys. He continues to play with his right hand, concentrating only on the notes, the music before him. He loses track of time, only aware of the improvement as he plays the notes, hitting each correct key if not as fast as they should be played.

Deciding to continue with the song Blaine moves on to the measure after the troubling chord, Blaine starts to play the bass and treble notes.

And then bangs both hands on the keys in frustration, the discordant mash of notes making his ears ring.

"I hope that wasn't written on the page. I didn't pay for you to go to piano lessons to play songs like _that_."

Blaine jolts in surprise and quickly spins on the piano bench, sees his father standing with crossed arms by the entrance to the family room. He silently curses the hallway that kept him from hearing the front door.

Not meeting his father's gaze Blaine ducks his head. "No…just some complicated patterns."

"Mm. Well since you don't seem to be making progress here, how about you use your muscles for something else and help me unload the car."

Recognizing the order Blaine stands, shoving his phone in his pocket as he crosses the room. "Mom buy a lot?"

"Enough." Blaine's father shrugs as they walk down the hall. "Thought I'd take advantage of having a teenaged boy in the house and have you help carry it in, once I realized where you were." Cutting a glance to Blaine, he smirks. "Realizing piano isn't as fun as you make it out to be? Sounded a bit like a four-year old banging on those keys."

Blaine bites the inside of his cheek and forces his hands to stay relaxed at his sides. "No," Blaine's controlled voice stays even, "I love music. Like I said," Blaine says as he opens the front door, "Just some complicated measures."

"Guess you'll have to keep practicing then."

Blaine gathers several bags from the car and turns back toward the house. "Music is just like any other skill – you have to keeping using it to continually do well." Entering the house, Blaine sets the department store bags on the floor before heading out for a second trip. "Besides, I don't mind practicing."

"Seems like most of my coworkers' boys are either playing video games or outside," Blaine's father comments as he locks the car. "I honestly thought you'd eventually get tired of piano, like Cooper did."

Blaine sighs, balancing the three bags in his hands as his father waits for him to reopen the door. "Cooper always preferred acting to music."

"Cooper was always focused."

Blaine hears the implied 'unlike you' and holds his comment that Cooper focused on one thing for a period of time before changing and focusing on something else; instead he hums in acknowledgement and adds to the pile of bags in the entryway.

"Oh, thank you dear." Blaine's mother breaks the ensuing silence as she enters from the kitchen. "I could never have brought all those in on my own! And," she glances at Blaine's father, "I know your father appreciates it; we'd forgotten how much walking's required at outlet malls."

"It's fine, mom."

"Hm." Blaine mother steps forward and pulls Blaine into a light hug. "Did you have a good day yesterday?"

Blaine flashes back to the shock in the garage, the discussion with Burt, the draining but needed conversation with Kurt, the comfortable dinner from the day before. "I guess. It was fine."

"That's good. Oh!" Blaine's mother steps back from the collection of shopping bags, holding one in her left hand. "I almost forgot; I got the mail and there's several college brochures for you, Blaine. I put them on the table in the kitchen."

"Mm." Blaine nods at his mother as she heads for the stairs, not caring about the brochures. Having already applied to NYADA and other universities in New York, brochures hold little appeal.

"Don't be dismissive of your mother, Blaine."

"What? I wasn't –" Blaine cuts himself off, turning to face his father who's leaning against the wall.

"It's obvious you don't care about any college brochure, Blaine. Are you even thinking about your future?"

"Of course I am!" Blaine's voice rises, echoing off the tiled floor. "I can't wait to get out of Ohio. I've already sent in applications to schools in New York, and auditioned for NYADA when I was visiting Kurt last month!"

"You _auditioned_?" Blaine's father barks as he walks toward Blaine. "You're going to actually study something you have to audition for? On top of everything else you – I thought you had a good head on your shoulders, Blaine. You're smart; I've seen your report cards. You could succeed at anything, I'm sure. Or if you were tired of academics you could go to some tech school, I'm sure that Mr. Humler would hire you. But instead you're trying to do something what – singing and dancing?" The condescension on the last three words is clear.

Blaine blinks at his father standing a foot in front of him. "His name is _Mr. Hummel_. And I'm sure he would hire me if it was something I wanted, but it's not! I don't want to study accounting or law or mechanics, Dad! I love music! I'm going to school to be a performer!"

Blaine's father laughs. "That's not a career, Blaine." He sighs and catches Blaine's gaze. "Music's a great hobby, but you need to start thinking seriously about your future. Why don't you go do that now." Blaine's father looks away and starts to gather a few of the shopping bags, finished.

Blaine opens his mouth to reply before sighing in resignation and turning, heading for his room. He makes it partway up the stairs before he hears his father's murmurings.

"Studying _music_. Heaven forbid he pick a man's profession."

Normally, Blaine would continue to his room. But he's already vibrating with anger and stress and so, today he snaps.

"That's what it is, isn't it?" Blaine projects his voice, the cold tone carrying as he turns and goes back down the stairs, meeting his father at the base. "It's not that I want to study music…that I want to perform. It's that I want to perform and I'm _gay_. You can't even say it, can you? I thought – I thought after the shooting last month, when we stayed up all night and talked, I thought you actually were starting to accept me! But I should have known better, right? It was just the shock of the moment; of course you were happy your youngest son wasn't shot in some random school shooting. I'm still here though, and I'm _gay_. I'm gay and I'm in love with Kurt and we're going to get _married _and live together in New York!"

Blaine's father grabs Blaine's arm, pulling him a step closer as he replies. "Married? Have you lost your mind?! I thought you'd have grown up after that incident a few years ago –"

"_Incident_?! It was a gay bashing, Dad! Those three guys beat the crap out of me – put me in the hospital with months of recovery – because I'm gay!" Blaine's harsh breaths seem just as loud as his yell.

"And it taught you nothing! I thought it would be a wake-up call for you – that you'd stop this nonsense and be the man your mother and I raised you to be!"

Blaine blinks, hearing echoes –

"_Be a man, Anderson!"_

"– and stop this fanciful talk!"

"It's not some _talk_, Dad!" Blaine draws on his anger and hurt to focus on the present. "I'm gay! And I'm sorry if that embarrasses you when you're talking to the other pilots, but it's who I am: your gay son! And you," Blaine meets his father's burning glare, "You're nothing more than some bigoted, cowardly –"

Blaine falls back, hitting the wall with a _crack! _that somehow seems quieter than the sound of flesh hitting flesh as he stares in shock at his father's still raised hand and feels the building ache on the left side of his face.

"Get out."

Blaine runs.

He follows the whispered order, ignoring his mother's call from the stairs as he grabs his keys from the hook by the door.

Five minutes later Blaine pulls over and lets his head fall to his steering wheel. Moments later he sits up, fighting dizziness, and takes his phone from his pocket with shaking hands. It takes him two tries to unlock, and another thirty seconds to get to the name he wants.

"Hey, you! Going to let me hear that song? I told you you'd get it!"

Blaine breaks.

"_Kurt_." Blaine hears Kurt's frantic voice, rushed and high, but the sobs keep coming, preventing further words. He has to talk though, he has to _tell him_. "He actually – I _can't_, Kurt."

"Blaine." Kurt's voice has lost its frantic edge, instead coming through calm and sure, if a bit a strained. "Blaine, you have to breathe. Breathe with me, okay? In and out. Just like that."

It takes a few minutes, but Blaine gradually calms. "Thank you, Kurt."

"I – what happened, Blaine?"

Blaine feels the catch in his chest, but ignores the twinge. "He…he was mad. I usually let it go but today I didn't and –" Blaine pauses, takes a steadying breath and continues in a monotone. "He hit me." Blaine continues speaking through the sharp inhalation he hears. "He hit me and I fell into the wall and then I ran and I don't know what to do and –"

"Blaine." Kurt's voice cracks. "Blaine, you have tell me who…who did this. I think I know, but I need you to tell me."

Blaine closes his eyes. "Dad." The left side of his face seems to throb harsher at the name. "My dad hit me, Kurt. And I don't know where I am or where I'm going to go – I just ran."

"You're going to my parents' house. I'm going to call Dad and he's going to bring the tow truck and come pick you up because you are _not _attempting to drive right now." Kurt's voice rings with confidence and promise. "Now," Kurt pauses and Blaine squeezes his phone. "You said you don't know where you are?"

"I didn't – I just drove."

"That's fine, Blaine. Just…put me on speaker and pull up Google maps."

Blaine lowers his phone with shaking hands, but completes the request and reads off the location in a voice he barely recognizes as his own.

"Dad's going to come get you, Blaine. Okay?"

Blaine sniffs and opens his eyes long enough to pull some napkins from his glove compartment. "Okay."

"Okay…so I'm going to have to hang up to call him, alright? But I'll be fast and then I'll call right back. I'll stay with you til he gets there. I promise."

Blaine ignores his increasing heartbeat and the tears that threaten; Kurt has to call Burt.

"Okay."

"I'll call back as soon as I can, Blaine. I love you."

In the ensuing silence Blaine raises the steering wheel and draws up his legs, resting his head on his knees.

He waits for Kurt's call.

* * *

Kurt sits on his bed, phone clutched in his hand, his knees drawn up to his chest. His entire body remains tense, as it has been since he got Blaine's call a little over an hour ago. He'd talked with Blaine until his dad had arrived with the tow truck, but then he'd ceded control to his dad, and been left with a maelstrom of emotions coursing through his veins, wanting nothing more than to buy the $300 ticket – he'd started checking ticket prices as soon as Blaine had started crying – and fly to Ohio.

But he knows he can't drop everything and leave.

Even though at the moment New York feels like a vice.

So now he sits on his bed, holding himself still to keep from pressing the "Buy Now!" button and waits for his phone to ring.

The silence of the loft closes in on him, doing nothing to dispel the thrum of _Blaine's hurt _cycling through his mind. He's never cared for silence, but the thought of playing music holds no appeal either. He can't move, can't work on homework, can't think of anything else until he knows more about what's happening with Blaine.

Kurt glances at his phone again; three minutes since the last time he checked. He switches his phone to his right hand, stretching out the fingers of his left to ease the cramp that had taken up residence.

His phone starts to vibrate and he lurches forward, answering before the first chord comes through the speaker.

"Dad! How is he? Can I –"

"He's okay, Kurt." Burt interrupts Kurt's hurried questions. "Carole's getting him some ice and Tylenol right now though, so you're stuck with me for a bit."

"How," Kurt swallows, starts again. "How bad is it?"

There's a pause, only the sound of breathing coming through the phone line. "He's…bruised." Another pause. "Got a bump on the back of his head, his left cheek's swollen. That's all I saw, but Carole's checking him over – you know she'll make sure he's treated." Burt's voice comes through in an even tone, but Kurt hears the anger thrumming below the surface, the worry only slightly hidden.

Kurt blinks back his tears, forces his voice steady. "I wasn't sure when he called. He was so upset, Dad, I've never –" Kurt cuts himself off, hoping to quell the panic he feels rising in his chest. "He was _crying _and I just wanted to tell him everything would be okay…but it's not, is it? I'm not even in Ohio right now and I thought –" Kurt's voice drops. "I didn't think I'd ever feel worse than when Blaine got hurt with that slushie…but this is so much worse because it was his family – I can't _imagine _what he's feeling and I'm not there for him."

"You don't have to be in Ohio to be there for him, Kurt. And no one should ever be hurt by family, you're right. But he's got family here too, and us Hummels look after our own."

Despite the worry he still feels anchored in his being, Kurt smiles at his father's mention of Blaine being family. "Thanks, Dad."

"Don't have to thank me. Blaine's a good guy – you're good for each other. And we'll look after him, don't worry."

On his bed, Kurt straightens, recognizing his father's tone: it held the same edge before he confronted Karofsky in Principal Figgins office, before he ran for Congress, before he assured Kurt he'd beat cancer. "I'm gonna talk to the Andersons tomorrow, get somethin' figured out; Blaine'll have people to look after him. I'll make sure of it."

Kurt closes his eyes, grateful in a way he hadn't considered before today. "Thank you, Dad. I – I still wish I was there too, but you're pretty good at being there for people."

"Of course I am; a congressman is always there for the people."

"And so modest, too." The smile on Kurt's face is small, trembling, but a relief.

"Always."

"Hm." Kurt feels some of the tension release from his shoulders. "Even so, I lucked out in the parent department."

"Well," Burt's voice radiates warmth even as it wavers. "I got some pretty fantastic boys."

"I still say I got the better end of the deal, but thank you, I suppose."

"Of course, Kurt."

"You'll text me about Blaine, right? After you talk to Carole?" Kurt briefly bites his lip. "I know he won't outright lie to me, but he's not above downplaying things to try and keep me from worrying."

"I'll go check on him as soon as I get off here, and I'll have Carole text you."

Kurt huffs, amused but still unable to laugh after the events of the day. "You really need to get over your aversion to texting, but thanks. I love you, Dad."

"Love you too."

* * *

Burt enters the kitchen and sees Carole standing by the table, a statue in silence. Her hands clutch the back of one of the kitchen chairs, tendons in stark relief.

"He went upstairs to shower and put on some more comfortable clothes; hopefully Kurt left more than one pair of sweatpants here." Carole's voice trembles, the only inflection in the monotone words.

Burt crosses the room to stand by her side. "Alright." Carefully, he reaches out a hand to touch her arm. "You okay?"

"Me? I'm fine. He was the perfect patient; didn't complain once. Never mind that he has a sizable bump on his head from where he hit a _wall_, and bruises across his shoulder and back and cheek, and oh! let's not forget the swelling on his face and the possible black eye."

"Carole." Burt steps closer with a sigh, gently wrapping his other arm around her.

"He's his _son_! His son, Burt! And he just –" Carole takes a breath, leans back into Burt. "You're supposed to cherish your children; they could be taken –" Carole's voice breaks and cuts off with a gasp, her left hand leaving the chair to close over her mouth.

"We'll help, Carole. Blaine's here now, and I'll take care of it; he'll be looked after."

Carole turns in Burt's arms, catching his eye and widening her own. "You'll take care of it?"

Burt huffs. "Not anything bad. I know better than that; even if I'd like to see him rot. Besides," Burt continues, "Blaine doesn't want the police involved, begged me not to call them when I picked him up." Burt pauses, pushing away memories from when he'd first seen Blaine that afternoon. "Just some paperwork. That's all."

"You seem very certain of yourself." Burt shrugs in response.

"He doesn't know Blaine doesn't want the police involved. Figure a man like that," Burt winces at the description, "He'll want to do the easiest thing to keep it private – I'm sure he'll understand after I explain it to him tomorrow."

"Well," Carole rests her hands on Burt's biceps. "Don't let any explanation get you too upset; I can't handle two injured family members, Burt Hummel."

"Just a conversation. I don't need you takin' away my coffee as punishment."

"I would, too."

"You talk to Kurt too much. Speaking of, he wants you to text him about Blaine – figures he'll get more information from you."

"He's a smart one." Carole gives a weak smile. "And I figure I still owe him for that makeover."

Burt shakes his head, offering a small smile in return. "He's pretty good at fashion." He glances toward the stairs, remembering some of Kurt's outfits. "You sure he left something Blaine could use, though?"

"If not, the pajamas Blaine wore last night are in the washer; they'll be ready soon enough."

"That's good. We'll get him settled and I think we can afford to order in tonight." At Carole's expression he continues. "One night of pizza isn't the end of the world, and no teenage boy turns down pizza."

"Don't think I don't see what you're doing, but," Carole's face tightens, "Blaine needs to relax tonight."

* * *

In Kurt's old bedroom for the second time that day, Blaine sits on the bed, staring at his hands. The closet seems impossibly far away, and even the bureau – which he's fairly certain has at least one pair of pajama pants Kurt's outgrown – seems likes too much effort. Still, he knows Kurt's parents will worry if spends too long in the room, so he slowly stands and makes his way to the bureau. He pulls out the remembered pants and a worn, oversized sweatshirt advertising the garage. Grabbing his phone he snaps a picture.

_Text message from Blaine:_

[photo] Stealing your clothes again

_Text message from Kurt:_

I'm glad I left them. 3

In the bathroom later, Blaine winces as he dresses following his quick shower. After pulling on the sweatshirt he raises his sleeve covered hands to his face – ignoring the twinge as he does so – and takes in the comforting smell of the Hudson-Hummel's detergent and a hint of Kurt's favorite cologne. Seconds later, he turns and exits the room, flipping the switch as he walks past.

He doesn't look in the mirror.

Picking up his phone from the bed, he puts it in his pocket and leaves the room. Downstairs, he pauses at the foot of the stairs, catching his breath and pushing away the slight dizziness brought on by walking down the steps.

The living room proves to be empty, and he finds Kurt's parents sitting at the table in the kitchen, each with a glass of water. Carole's standing before he's two feet in the room, guiding him to a chair. "You go ahead and sit, Blaine. I'm going to get you the ice pack; it's been long enough."

Blaine has his mouth open to tell her not to bother, but the look she gives him on her way back from the freezer quells any protest.

"Thank you." Blaine leans back in the chair, keeping the ice pack in position against his scapula. Standing beside him, Carole uses gentle hands to move his hair. An involuntary hiss escapes him when her fingers brush against the bump that had stung the most when he'd showered.

"Sorry, sweetie – just making sure it hasn't gotten any bigger."

"It's fine." Across the table, Blaine sees Burt sigh at his response.

Carole doesn't comment, however, just turns Blaine's face to look at his left cheek and eye. "No more pain meds til you've eaten – don't worry, we ordered pizza – but I can get more ice, if you need it. Any more dizziness?"

Blaine stays silent for moment, debating as Carole steps away and returns, placing another glass of water on the table. "No."

"You sure about that, kid? Sounded a bit like a question." Burt's voice is light, but he doesn't look away from Blaine.

"I um – I got a little dizzy after I came down the stairs, but I'm fine now."

"Mm." Burt takes a sip of water. "I'll walk up with you when you're ready for bed anyway." Burt smiles at Blaine. "Can't have you fallin' down the stairs."

Blaine feels the blush rising and ducks his head, gratefully sipping from his glass of water. "Thanks, Mr. Hummel."

"Mm. You call Kurt yet?"

Blaine's hand instinctively pats the phone in his pocket. "Not – not yet."

"Burt and I were just going to watch some TV while we wait for the pizza," Carole comments. "Why don't you go ahead and call him?"

"Sounds like a great plan. Kurt'll be happy to hear from you." Burt is already pushing back his chair to stand. "Just yell if you need something, and," Burt shakes his head, "Maybe leave out the bit about pizza tonight."

Blaine nods, giving Burt a small smile. Soon he's alone in the kitchen, remembering Carole's admonishment to remove the ice after ten minutes, murmurs from the television barely audible over the hum of the refrigerator.

Closing his eyes to settle his thoughts, Blaine blindly pulls out his phone.

Breathe in. _It doesn't change anything._

Breathe out. _Kurt loves me._

Breathe in. _Kurt still loves me._

Breathe out. _Kurt's my family_.

Blaine opens his eyes and dials.


	9. Chapter 8

Remind Me to Forget

Chapter 8

Kurt stands by the window, looking out at the grey drudge of Bushwick. He keeps his arms crossed, a small effort to stay warm while he waits for the coffee to finish brewing. Rachel's voice rises above the sound of the shower, and if he wasn't already awake rethinking about his conversation with Blaine he'd be pounding on the door. Santana had been right: Rachel did forget that others live in the loft.

_Text message from Kurt_

I hope you're still dreaming! Rachel's singing banished mine…

"Tell me there's coffee."

Startled, Kurt spins and sees Santana walking toward the kitchen, still in pajamas, hair sleep-mussed. "I started some not too long ago. It's brewing; should be done soon."

Rachel hits the bridge of _Don't Rain on my Parade_ and Santana shoots a glare toward the bathroom. "You'd think if the little diva is going to wake us up before the flippin' Sun she'd at least make us coffee."

"Santana…" Kurt sighs as he drops into one of his vintage kitchen chairs, propping his head on his right hand. "Can you not?"

"Aww, did the resident gay not get his beauty sleep?"

"As a matter of fact Santana, no, I didn't." Kurt snaps. "So I'd really appreciate it if you could keep your comments to yourself this morning."

"Damn Hummel. You're grumpier than usual." Santana squints from across the table. "You get in a fight with your hobbit?"

At the mention of Blaine Kurt closes his eyes, feels the worry descending at the memory. "No." Kurt opens his eyes and glares at Santana. "We didn't fight, Santana; I can lose sleep for other reasons." Kurt's coarse words carry across the small space even as he stands and heads for the coffee pot.

"You trying to take my spot as head bitch?"

Kurt sighs and ducks his head as he pours himself a cup of coffee before reaching for a second mug. Moments later he sets the steaming coffee in front of Santana and reclaims his seat. "Sorry Santana. I'm just –" Kurt pauses as he reaches for the sugar. "I'm just a little stressed."

"I noticed. Congratulations; you now have raccoon eyes."

Kurt's hands involuntarily go to his face, rubbing at his eyes even as he frowns at Santana's amused expression. "I shouldn't have brought you coffee."

"And here I thought we bonded over breakfast yesterday."

Kurt eyes Santana over the rim of his coffee cup. "Mm. At least you didn't demand we go somewhere this morning."

Santana gestures towards the window. "The Sun's barely up, Hummel. No bagel is good enough to force me outside this early on a Sunday."

"Good to know." Kurt sips his coffee, swallowing quickly when he realizes it's still a few degrees too hot.

"I need food though." Santana adds as she sets her own mug down. "We still have eggs?"

"What?" Kurt's coffee hasn't fully kicked in yet and thoughts of Blaine have him unable to keep up with Santana's changing topics.

"Eggs. Hummel." Santana keeps her eyes on him as she quickly ties her hair into a pony tail. "We still have some?"

"Yes, last I checked."

"Right." Santana pushes back her chair. "Scrambled okay?"

"You're _cooking_?"

Santana turns back to face Kurt on her way to the kitchen. "Yes. I can handle scrambling eggs and toast. Besides," Santana smirks, "You look about ready to fall over. You'd burn the apartment down."

"I –" Kurt swallows, gives Santana a small smile. "Thanks, Santana."

"Don't get used to it; I just don't want to have a find a new place to live if you set this place on fire. And," Santana turns to face him after closing the door of the fridge. "I expect to hear the story behind those bags under your eyes, when you're up for it."

Kurt thinks back about his fear from the day before, his continued worry for Blaine, his anger at Blaine's parents; it would be nice to share at least some of it, and Santana is hard enough – unlike Rachel who still can stun him with her naiveté – to view the topic with a realistic outlook and not burst into tears.

Kurt nods.

* * *

Blaine jolts himself awake, breathing harsh as he takes in the sunlight sneaking in through the closed blinds. Shadows dance across the wall, creating shapes and discarding them just as quickly. The light shifts and –

_The glint from his cufflink cuts through the shadows, a bright point of focus against the concrete. Dress shoes moving away._

"_Be a man, Anderson!" _

_The dress shoes lengthen. His father stares down with cold eyes. "Why couldn't you be the man we raised you to be?"_

Blaine shakes his head, scattering the remnants of the nightmare, and pushes aside the blankets. Standing, he grabs his phone from the bedside table before turning and snapping a picture of the mussed bed.

_Text message from Blaine_

[photo] Not quite as comfy as I remember it…

_Text message from Kurt_

:( Mine's missing something, too

_Text message from Kurt_

Did you sleep okay?

Blaine thinks back over the times he'd woken gasping, breath harsh and heart pounding. Still, he'd slept longer than he had at his parent's house.

_Text message from Blaine_

Mostly. Woke up a few times…

_Text message from Kurt_

:( I'm sending you hugs!

_Text message from Blaine_

Your hugs are the best ;)

_Text message from Kurt_

I'll remember you said that!

_Text message from Blaine_

Good!

Blaine smiles as he pockets his phone and exits the room, intent on coffee. In the kitchen minutes later Blaine hesitates before pulling the jar of coffee from the cabinet; he's familiar with the Hudson-Hummel kitchen, but he's never cooked there – or made coffee – while alone. It's odd, working in someone else's kitchen, but the mundane act of brewing coffee settles his nerves.

After pouring himself a steaming cup he turns and takes a seat at the table, wincing when his shoulder hits the wood of the chair. Sighing, he stares into his coffee cup, waits for the sharp burst of pain to subside. Moments later, Blaine raises his mug and lightly blows at the steam before cautiously taking a sip. His mind wanders, flashing to his nightmares – to his father's shuttered face as he'd ordered Blaine to leave.

Blaine knows it was smart to leave – to run – but a small, weary part of him is so _tired _of running.

He ran from Marysville High.

And now he's run from his own house. Absently, he wonders what it says that he feels more at home in his fiancé's parents' kitchen than his own parents' house; he wonders if it's worse that it was true before what happened yesterday. Blaine closes his eyes.

Breathe in_. It was yesterday._

Breathe out. _Move on; it's a new day._

"Oh, you made coffee." Blaine opens his eyes as Carole enters the kitchen. "I always love the smell of coffee in the morning."

Blaine smiles into his coffee cup and makes a show of inhaling the scent. "Mm. It was one thing I liked when Kurt was working at the Lima Bean, even though I knew he hated it there."

"Mm," Carole hums as she pours her own mug of coffee before turning to face Blaine, "He did hate it though; washed every shirt he wore twice."

Blaine breathes a small laugh before freezing as the pain in his cheek returns. "I can see him doing that." Blaine adds quickly, before turning away and briefly bringing a hand to his face.

"I had to buy laundry detergent twice as often." Carole stands by the table, facing Blaine and putting an ice pack and two Tylenol in front of him with a smile.

Blaine stares for a moment, absently wondering how he missed the sound of Carole retrieving the items before taking in the expectant look on her face and swallowing the pills with a sip of coffee. Then, giving Carole a smile he dramatically raises the ice pack to his cheek, managing to only jerk a little when the cold touches his skin.

"Thanks."

"Of course, Blaine. Any dizziness this morning?"

"Only when I came down the stairs. I'm fine now, though."

"Hm." Carole tilts Blaine's head, carefully checking where the bump still stings. "Sorry; I know it's tender. Doesn't look any worse than yesterday, though." Stepping back, she shakes her head, huffs a laugh and she takes a seat. "Only you would remember to brew coffee but not get pain killers."

"Coffee's important," Burt adds as he enters the room and heads for the pot and grabs a mug from the cabinet. "Not as important as some things," Burt pointedly looks at the ice pack Blaine's still holding, "but still important."

Blaine ducks his head in embarrassment, glad for the ice that hides the resulting blush. When he glances up again, Burt and Carole have joined him at the table. There's silence before Burt sets his mug down with a sigh and catches Blaine's gaze.

"So." Burt's voice carries a weight Blaine hasn't heard before, and he leans forward in response. "I won't do anything without your okay, but I went ahead and did some research last night. Now, I figure we can try to avoid havin' this conversation twice, so I was thinking we could call Kurt and then he can listen, too."

Blaine nods and pulls his phone from his pocket, giving Burt and Carole a small smile as his phone dials.

"Please say you're calling to provide a respite from Rachel and Santana's feud."

"Partly?" Blaine swallows and continues. "Your dad wanted to talk about – he wants to talk about what we're going to do, but you have a say too, so you can be on speaker and hear what's going on?"

"Of course." Kurt's voice takes on a serious edge, not even hinting at the dramatic emphasis from before.

Blaine pulls the phone away and turns on the speaker before placing it in the center of the table.

"Hi Kurt." Carole takes a sip of her coffee as Burt adds his hello and questions Kurt about his weekend. Following a lull in the conversation, Burt clears his throat and Blaine looks up from where he'd been studying the swirls in his coffee.

"Okay. So Blaine after what happened," Burt quickly glances at the ice pack Blaine's still holding. "I looked into what we could do. I know you don't want to involve the police or CPS," Burt pauses and only continues after Blaine's nod. "So I was thinking I could go see your parents and see about appointing a guardian. Now," Burt holds Blaine's gaze. "You got a couple of options with that. Since he's over eighteen, your brother could be named; I know you've been talking to him again."

"I am. But," Blaine shrugs his shoulders. "Cooper is – he's really focused on his work in California. I don't –" Blaine pauses, searching for words. "We talk, but I don't think he knows me that well. You said there were a couple options?"

Burt nods. "The other option. Well," Burt glances at Carole, "If you felt comfortable, Carole and I could ask your parents to appoint us as guardians."

"What does that mean, exactly?" Kurt's question echoes the thoughts racing through Blaine's mind.

"It's been ten minutes." Carole's voice breaks through Blaine's contemplation. She nods towards his ice pack at Blaine's confused look, and he gives her a sheepish smile as he sets the compress on the table.

"I'd do the same thing I'm doing now; be there for Blaine," Burt states, answering Kurt's question, "But it would be official in the eyes of the law."

Blaine glances between the Hudson-Hummels and tightens his grip on his coffee mug. "Please don't think I'm not grateful; you've been wonderful. But Mom flies out some time tomorrow, and Dad leaves Tuesday, so I'm not sure this is really necessary – I know you're both busy."

"Blaine –"

"Kurt," Burt interrupts Kurt, his voice carrying over the phone's speaker as he focuses on Blaine. "Blaine…I don't want to pressure you. And we wouldn't," Burt rubs his right hand over his face before continuing. "We wouldn't be trying to replace your parents, and you've done an amazing job on your own while you're parents have been away, but Blaine _no one _should have to deal with what you went through yesterday. You're a great kid, but you're still a _kid _at least for a little while longer. Let us be there for you."

Silence blankets the kitchen as Blaine thinks over the comment.

"It's your decision," Kurt breaks Blaine's reverie. "But for what it's worth, Dad and Carole are great at support."

Blaine smiles. "I already knew that." He looks to the Hudson-Hummels and finishes his coffee. "If – if you're sure you don't mind."

"Wouldn't have offered if we didn't mean it, kid." Burt smiles and Carole nods.

Blaine ducks his head as he smiles. "Thank you."

"You're family, Blaine." Kurt's response has heat rushing to Blaine's cheeks, and his smile grows.

"Well," Blaine raises his head at Burt's comment. "Sounds like we've got this settled." He nods to Blaine. "I'm gonna go see your parents since they're not in town for much longer. Why don't you grab some breakfast –" Burt holds up a hand to forestall Carole's comment. "I'll grab something on the way back; one late lunch won't kill me."

"Something healthy!" The admonishment, slightly crackly through the phone's speaker, has Burt shaking his head even as he smiles.

"Talk to your fiancé, Kurt."

* * *

Beneath his fingers, the pillow flattens, the stuffing forced to spread and balloon around Kurt's hand. "Really?! That's barely even a dress! It looks like a five-year-old got bored in art class and instead of putting the tissue paper on the piñata decided to tie it around a person! _No one _wants to see that much of someone in public! And she cheated!"

"Embrace the stereotype some more, Hummel; I'll post this to YouTube and be rich within the hour."

Kurt shoots Santana a glare. "She cheated, Santana. And the judges are obviously blind because that is not a dress by any definition."

Santana smirks as she glances at the screen. "Not a fan of the female form?"

"This show is supposed to be about fashion! That," Kurt waves his free hand toward the screen, "isn't fashion." He narrows his eyes at Santana when she continues to smirk. "I don't even know how that made it past the censors."

"I really should be filming this."

Kurt just continues to glare.

"You've been twitchy all day, and while I'm enjoying your cliché reaction to bad reality TV, this is a bit much. Even for you."

"Fashion had no role in the creation of that _dress_."

"You're more gay than I thought." Seeing Kurt's incredulous look she continues as she takes a seat beside him. "You're snapping and strangling pillows."

Kurt releases the pillow with a sigh, absently running his fingers over it to smooth out the creases and lumps. "It was a bad episode."

Santana stares, undeterred.

"I just wanted to relax and get lost in some mindless television, but apparently even the T.V. is against me today."

"The real world not good enough for you?"

Kurt turns to face Santana. "I'm sure you've had days you wanted to ignore the world, Santana."

"Hm." Santana leans back on the sofa, and catches Kurt's gaze. "Maybe I have, but I thought everything was perfect," a quick glace to the ring shining on Kurt's finger, "in the life of Kurt Hummel."

Kurt twists the ring with his right hand, looking away from Santana. "It should be, right?"

"Starting to regret promising to spend your life with a hobbit?"

Kurt turns so quickly he almost falls on the couch. "No! Why do you _always _say things like that? I can't wait to marry Blaine!"

Santana shrugs. "You're the one ticked off at a television show and looking like you haven't slept in days."

"Thanks, Santana. You always know how to make me feel better."

Santana rolls her eyes. "You gonna talk now or keep making me wait while you avoid the topic?"

"I don't –" Kurt cuts himself off and sighs. "I don't want to betray Blaine's trust, but this is…difficult. If I – If I tell you, you can't interrupt me. And please, Santana, just this once, I need you to not – I need you to just _listen_."

"I may be a bitch, but I do have some social skills."

Kurt gives her a small smile and takes a steadying breath. "You know Blaine's parents aren't really around. They didn't come and see _West Side Story _and never came to any concerts. They're just…not involved. But they've never really...accepted Blaine." Kurt shares a glance with Santana. "They'd never really said anything outright, at least not that he shared. But it was the thing no one really talked about. Anyway," Kurt looks at his ring, considering. "They've both been home this past week, and things…things changed."

Santana's eyes narrow and she leans forward. "You're being annoyingly vague, Hummel."

"This isn't the most fun conversation. Sorry if I'm not immediately jumping in."

Santana manages to look confused, worried, and annoyed all at once. Kurt sighs and closes his eyes; opening them, he takes a breath and begins to speak.

* * *

Burt turns off the car's engine and sits for a moment, releasing a breath. Grabbing his keys he exits the car and locks it after retrieving the bag from the back seat. Moments later he's entered the house, dropped the bag in the living room, and finds Carole in the kitchen, chopping celery.

"How'd it go? You were gone a while!" Carole's voice catches, and Burt hears the worry beneath the lines. "Blaine's upstairs, so you don't have to sugar coat it."

"They didn't fight me on it. They just –" Burt rubs his hands over his face and takes a seat at the table. "Part of me's glad; I didn't have to fight them on it. But, I showed them the papers I got from Greg – that's partly what took so long, had to go by his office – and they just signed on the dotted line."

"Well, it's not like after yesterday they could think they're in the right."

"His mother had a bag for me; said she was glad Blaine felt comfortable here. Stood up for her husband too; apparently he's going back to anger management classes."

Carole turns from the counter to face her husband. "That's something, at least."

Burt huffs and rolls his eyes. "Sure. After asking if I wanted coffee he admitted his temper got control yesterday, and he went _too far _but he didn't actually admit that he had no reason to be that ticked in the first place. I knew from Blaine that they weren't the most accepting of people, but to see it…" Burt shakes his head. "I just don't see how parents can be so indifferent to their kid."

"Not every kid's lucky enough to have a Burt Hummel for a father."

Burt gives a small smile. "Not that special; just common decency, really."

Carole hums in reply and turns back to the counter.

"You know they thanked me? After – I was gettin' ready to leave and they thanked me! People are always saying politicians are the polite ones hiding something but those two – I didn't know it was possible for a conversation to be that formal and polite."

"Now you know where Blaine got his manners."

"Thought it was an act at first, but he genuinely means it."

"He's a good kid; Kurt's lucky to have found him."

"Mm." Burt leans back in his chair, relaxing. "They're good for each other. I don't know what Kurt would've done his Junior year without him."

Carole turns and opens a cabinet, pulling out a frying pan. "Kurt's a survivor; he'd have been okay, but Blaine helped more than we know, I'm sure. And Kurt's helped Blaine too – he's much more open than the boy we met at the football game."

Carole opens her mouth to continue but Blaine enters the kitchen, ear buds in and humming along to whatever song must be playing. It takes a moment for the scene to click, but then Blaine startles to a stop, jerking out his headphones and shoving them in the front pocket of his hoodie.

"Sorry!" Blaine faces Burt and bites his lip. "I didn't mean to interrupt; I didn't realize you were back."

Burt gives Blaine a smile. "You didn't; I was actually just about to go find you."

"Oh?" Blaine's voice is quiet, cautious.

"Nothing bad, kid. Everything worked out – paperwork's being processed. Now," Burt pauses and reaches into his pocket; pulls out a key. "I got this made on the way back. You can use it whenever you want; you can stay at your parents' house if you'd like, but consider here home, too."

Blaine takes the key and if Burt sees the slight tremble in his fingers or the sheen in his eyes there's no comment. "Thank-you. I know that doesn't even begin to cover all that you've done, but thank-you, so much."

Burt shares a look with Carole over Blaine's head. "No need for that, Blaine. You're family."

Blaine smiles and ducks his head before turning to face Carole and gesturing to the counter. "Anything I can do to help?"

"Not much left to do, actually. Dinner should be ready in about an hour." She then glances at Blaine's shoulder. "You can sit down and ice your shoulder, though. There's some Tylenol in the drawer, too."

"I don't –" Blaine stops when Carole just raises her eyebrows.

"Best to just sit, Blaine. Carole's a taskmaster when it comes to looking after people."

* * *

Lying across his bed, Kurt grimaces when his iPod starts to play another upbeat song; for once his eclectic taste is music is bothering him. Still, the conversation with Santana had drained him, and despite his annoyance at the song he can't be bothered to search for his remote.

He glances at his phone: 7:08 P.M. Two minutes since he last checked, and still no call from Blaine.

Despite feeling anxious and jittery, Kurt can't bring himself to move from the bed; he's still mentally exhausted and while his body wants to move, his brain has other ideas. The song continues to play and Kurt is blindly, weakly, pushing at his blankets for the small – why are docking station remotes always so _tiny_? – item when _Love, Love, Love _cuts through the room. Kurt jolts up, getting tangled in his blankets and sheets and inadvertently pushing the phone further away. Muttering a curse he pushes the offending blankets away and grabs the phone.

"Hey."

"Did I interrupt something? You sound out of breath."

Kurt looks at the mess of covers on his bed. "No…I just got into a fight with my blankets."

"Oh? How did that work out for you?"

Kurt sighs. "They didn't fight back, so I'm taking this as a win."

"Hm." Blaine stays quiet, and Kurt replays the conversation and winces, shaking his head at his own insensitivity.

"So," Kurt pauses and takes a breath, refocusing. "How are you?"

"Carole's been making sure I take Tylenol every four hours, and I think she has some kind of psychic ability because she's always showing up with ice or to check my head, too."

"I taught her well."

"Your dad never stood a chance."

"Not really, no." Kurt holds the phone between his cheek and shoulder, rearranging his pillows before sitting, relaxing against them. "But I'm glad Carole's there."

"Carole – your dad, too – they've both been amazing."

"Mm. So I'm guessing Dad got everything worked out?"

There's a sigh down the line. "Yeah. The paperwork's been filed, at least. He gave me a bag mom had packed too." A pause, rustling through the line before Blaine continues. "I didn't – the clothes she packed. I don't even remember _buying _them. I'll send you a picture; the pants aren't too bad, but the shirts. There's plaid, Kurt."

"Plaid can work."

"Not this plaid."

Kurt gives a tight laugh. "I'll take your word for it. But other than not having fashionable clothes, things are okay?"

Blaine sighs, and then begins to speak, his voice catching. "Your dad. He um – he gave me a key. Said I can stay where whenever."

"You always could, you know. It's just official, now. Although," Kurt straightens, takes a moment to organize his next words, "As much as I love the thought of you being with Dad and Carole, I hate the reason why you're there. You deserve better."

"You make up for it. I never," there's a pause, "I couldn't even have dreamed someone as amazing as you. And your parents – they're just a wonderful bonus."

"I love you." Kurt tightens his grip on his phone. "And I'm so glad Dad – I don't know what I would have done…"

"You don't have to worry, though. I'm safe and sound in your old room. Promise."

Kurt smiles and relaxes his grip. "I like this image. Did you steal pajamas again, too?"

"They're comfy."

"Mm. Did your mother happen to pack your laptop along with those clothes?"

"No," Blaine draws out the word before continuing, "I'll go to get it later; why?"

"I really want to see you." Kurt's voice takes on a persuasive edge. "I'm sure Dad will let you use his computer so we can Skype."

"I'm not sure, Kurt." Blaine's voice has become soft, hesitant. "I'm not – I'm not exactly looking my best."

Kurt swallows, hating everything about the current situation. "You have to know that doesn't matter, right Blaine? I could never –" Kurt briefly closes his eyes. "Nothing that ever happens to you could change how I feel for you. You're still my brave, _handsome_, bushy-haired fiancé."

"Kurt…"

"Please, Blaine? I just – I just really want to see you. And I know Dad will let you borrow his laptop."

"You seem very certain." Blaine pauses and when he speaks again his voice has lost some of its tension. "So I'm guessing I should go find your dad?"

Kurt lets out a small laugh of relief at Blaine's response. "Mm. Consider it a step in keeping your fiancé happy."

Blaine's laugh is short, but warm. "Something I always strive to do."

Kurt pushes himself off his bed and heads for his desk. "I'll just wait for your Skype call, then."

Blaine laughs. "I hope your dad isn't already using his computer; it's never good to keep Kurt Hummel waiting."

"You better hurry, then." Kurt opens Skype and absently straightens his hair. "Just...I really want to see you."

"Leaving your room now; I'll see you soon."

Kurt smiles and ends the call, stares at his computer. Ten minutes later he accepts Blaine's call, and then forces himself not to react to the sight of the bruise marring Blaine's face.

"Hi." Blaine sounds a bit hesitant, but his face stays open.

"Hey, you."

"Sorry." Blaine motions to his face. "Not my best day, I know."

Kurt's shaking his head before Blaine even finishes his sentence. "You're perfect."

Blaine quirks a half smile. "You're biased."

"Never said I wasn't. And my opinion is the only important one anyway."

"Mm. Still, did I tell you your dad said I could stay home tomorrow? Carole said I need another day to rest." Blaine's hand moves toward his hair, and Kurt remembers his dad mentioning a bump on Blaine's head. It's not visible in the camera, but Kurt strains his eyes anyway.

"You certainly deserve it." Then Kurt gives a warm smile, knows his eyes soften visibly.

"What?"

"You said home."

"Oh." Blaine smiles and ducks his head, and Kurt sees a wall of black before the camera catches up. "I guess I did."

"Mm. So..." Kurt leans forward in his seat. "Ready for Nationals?"

Blaine rubs a hand over his eyes and Kurt gives a smile, ready to listen.


	10. Chapter 9

Remind Me to Forget

Chapter 9

"We can totally have Artie spin around Blaine and then he can weave between us!"

Blaine absently picks at his the salad in front of him, only half listening to Sam's choreography suggestions. Cafeteria salads are never the epitome of healthy cuisine, but this one is dubious even from a distance. While the vegetables appear to be fresh, there's a rubbery quality to them that has Blaine questioning his choice.

"– like the weaving idea. I could just go across, right? What do you think, Blaine?"

Blaine raises his head at Artie's comment, blinking slowly and focusing. "Hm…what?"

"Still not feeling well?" Sam's question has Blaine wincing internally, remembering his excuse for being absence the day before; it was partially true, but more mental than physical illness.

"Not my best," Blaine replies before turning to face Artie, "But yeah, you're the one who knows what's most comfortable for you; plus, weaving might be a bit much…"

Artie nods. "Thanks, man." A pause, "Weaving isn't the best, but I could turn while going across the stage – do some loops, just not in between you guys."

"I for one prefer that idea – sorry, Sam," Unique adds with a small smile. "Artie's a great dancer, but having someone go in-between dancing couples just sounds like it wouldn't end well. No offence, Artie."

"Hey, I agree. No problem."

"Okay," Sam draws out the word, looking around the table. "Since Blaine and Artie have the first two solos though, should Blaine even have a partner? I know he did when we practiced, but since Artie's gonna be doing his own thing..."

"You want to rearrange the whole routine?! Blaine, tell him he's crazy!"

Tina's sharp words have Blaine raising his head again, but it still takes him a moment to register the words.

"You sure you're okay? You look a little off, too."

Blaine shakes his head and forces himself to not bring his hand to his face to check the makeup Kurt had hesitantly suggested he apply to cover the bruise. His drama classes have given him practice, but he still worries. Having to explain the bruise was not on his to-do list for the day.

"I'm fine; just a little tired." Technically not a lie; Blaine's becoming an expert at skirting the truth, even if he's not proud of the skill. "Anyway, Tina…I think having Artie and me not have a partner might look nicer, and it wouldn't change the whole routine; we can keep the same steps, just have small groups of three, rather than two."

Tina scowls and mumbles something under her breath as Marley speaks up. "So are we practicing the change today? I mean, I don't mind, really, we still have a few weeks before any performances, and a month before Nationals, but if we change it we should add it to rehearsal, instead of just focusing on vocals like we planned."

"Good thing I brought tennis shoes." Unique nods and reaches to steal a fry from Sam's plate. "I can practice in heels, but first rehearsals are better done in comfortable shoes."

Blaine smiles and nods. "Blisters are nobody's friend."

"Mm. I used to think cheerleading practice was the most painful thing I could do to my feet." Kitty winces and continues, "Jumping in tennis shoes is tiring, but twirling around on stage in heels for ten minutes is _worse_."

"Better not let Coach Sylvester hear you saying that," Ryder adds with a shrug, "I'm pretty sure she'd add extra practices just to spite you."

Kitty ducks her head and sighs. "You're probably right."

Blaine smiles and then jolts, dropping his fork when his phone buzzes in his pocket.

_Text message from Kurt:_

Lunch is for eating, Blaine

_Text message from Blaine:_

I should have known you have spies

_Text message from Kurt:_

Never underestimate my level of power, Blaine

_Text message from Kurt:_

And if you really wanted a salad, the salad bar is better than any prepackaged one ;-)

_Text message from Blaine:_

This would be creepy if I didn't know you loved me

_Text message from Kurt:_

I do love you, which is why you're going to go get something edible. Get a pudding cup or some ice cream

_Text message from Blaine:_

I do love pudding :)

_Text message from Blaine:_

…dessert for lunch?

_Text message from Kurt:_

It's not like it's a regular thing. Besides, you're getting a healthy dinner ;)

Blaine huffs a laugh even as he looks around the lunch table. "I know Kurt can be terrifying, but spying guys? Really?" His friends look back with varying levels of embarrassment and confusion.

"I don't know about spying, but Kurt can be scary, man."

"Sure Sam." Blaine shakes his head as he stands from the table, still holding his phone.

_Text message from Blaine:_

You trained your spies well.

_Text message from Kurt:_

;)

* * *

Kurt takes his time putting his notebook and pencil case back in his bag. Around him, his classmates chatter as they exit the classroom in groups. Kurt, however, is in no hurry to return to the apartment where Santana and Rachel are continuing to snap at each other, and this late in the afternoon all the freshman rehearsal rooms will be in use, leaving him with only the library as an option if he stays on campus.

Kurt's sick of the library.

Sighing, Kurt closes his bag and stands, slowly making his way out of the now empty room. He absently rubs his eyes, hoping the pressure will relieve some of the ache brought on by tiredness. He wants to call Blaine, but there's Glee practice right now, so Kurt has to wait. In the hallway Kurt pauses: the exit to the right is closer to the subway, heading for home; to the left leads him back toward the city. Kurt puts in his ear buds and presses play on his iPod as he turns left – he'll stop by his favorite coffee shop, read there rather than at the loft.

He hums along to _You and Me _as he makes his way out of the building and onto the crowded sidewalk. Two songs later Kurt pulls out his ear buds and puts them in his pocket with his iPod as he enters the coffee shop, taking in the smell of coffee, different enough to not bring back traumatizing memories of his time as a barista.

He stands in line and then orders a mocha, idly gazing at the other customers while he waits. The couple in the corner is having some sort of argument – Kurt decides it's playful, based on their body language; the hipster on his laptop, pretending to type; Kurt's halfway through forming a story about the girl sitting alone by the window when his name is called.

Moments later he's seated at an empty table, steam rising from the mug in front of him. He pulls out some of his books and his notebook before digging through his bag for a pen. Finally finding one, he adds it to the collection of items on the table and pulls out his phone.

_Text message from Kurt:_

[photo] Coffee and homework. At least the coffee is delicious – I can't wait to bring you here!

Setting his phone aside, Kurt sighs and picks up his book. Since Blaine hadn't gone to school the day before, Kurt had taken advantage of the fact and they had Skyped for hours. Unfortunately, now Kurt had to catch up on the reading he hadn't done the day before. He takes a sip of his coffee before pulling out his iPod; time to focus.

Hands land on his shoulders, and Kurt jumps, almost falling out of his chair with a sound he'll deny later.

"Sorry! I couldn't resist!" Kurt spins at Dani's voice, shooting her a glare, blinks when Elliott waves from where he's standing next to her. "We were walking by and saw you through the window."

Kurt turns to look out the window and notes the darkened sky; he'd been reading for longer than he thought – no wonder his stomach was pleading with him.

"You don't mind if we join you?" Elliott gestures to the covered table, "We met for dinner to talk about the band. We were heading to the Guitar Emporium to look at music but Dani saw you and we thought we'd say hi."

Kurt's already piling his books and papers, clearing space on the table. "It's no problem; a break would be awesome." Kurt pauses and looks toward the counter. "But unlike you, I haven't had dinner, so I'm going to grab a sandwich."

"Oh! Here!" Dani hands him a few crumpled bills. "Can you get me a muffin? Any flavor's fine."

Kurt takes the money with a nod, moving to get in line as Elliott and Dani sit at the table. Minutes later he returns. "To match your hair," Kurt comments with a smile as he slides a blueberry muffin and some change across to her.

Dani accepts the muffin with a laugh. "Nice, Kurt. Thanks."

"So you two were talking about the band?" Kurt forcibly keeps his voice even, hiding his unease about the fact that two of his bandmates – the two 'rockstar' members – had met to discuss the band without him.

"Mm." Elliott nods and turns to Dani. "After we did _I Believe in a Thing Called Love _I was really feeling rock songs, so I asked Dani to meet up to brainstorm since next to me she has the most free time."

"I was thinking some AC/DC or Bon Jovi –"

"_Runaway _would be so amazing!" Elliott cuts into Dani's comment and continues, leaning forward in his excitement.

Kurt takes a bite of his sandwich.

Dani and Elliott continue to excitedly talk over songs that Kurt wouldn't choose for himself and his thoughts turn to Blaine. Despite their hours of conversation the day before, Kurt still has trouble wrapping his head around the events. He's known, logically, that he lucked out with his dad and Carole. It's a fact. But even when he's unnecessarily worried about his dad's reaction to his sexuality – he'd worried about his dad's thoughts, being judged, but it never even crossed his mind that his dad could _hurt _him.

"– not even listening." A snap, and Kurt startles in his chair, meeting the gazes of Elliott and Dani.

"Sorry." Kurt gives an apologetic smile. "Been a long day, you know?"

"Thinking about your fiancé?" At Kurt's questioning looking Dani continues with a shrug. "Santana said he's going through some things."

Kurt feels his shoulders slump, sighs and quickly rubs his hands over eyes. Part of him is irritated at Santana, but it's a smaller part of him than he would have believed a year ago. Outside opinions and ideas help a person grow; college has taught him that if nothing else, and Elliott and Dani haven't met Blaine – they have their own histories, and no bias.

"Can I ask you guys a personal question? There's a reason I'm asking, and you don't have to answer, but…"

"I'm game." Dani leans forward before Kurt has even finish his question. "Personal questions always have the _best _conversations."

"How," Kurt pauses, takes a sip of his drink, "How did your families react when you came out?"

Dani speaks first, breaking the brief silence. "There was yelling. Lots of yelling, actually. I'm surprised the neighbors didn't call in a noise complaint since I'm pretty sure a Hellmouth formed in the basement that night." Dani shrugs, so nonchalantly that Kurt can't tell if it's a practiced motion or an honest one. "I grabbed my guitar and some clothes and never looked back. I'm not a fan of yelling."

"Never?" Kurt can't keep the shock out of his voice; he can't imagine just leaving his dad and Carole.

"Nope." Dani pops to 'p' of the word, seemingly at ease. "For all I know they could have had some kind of revelation and are now members of PFLAG. But I doubt it, and I can't say I'm worse off by having cut those ties."

Kurt thinks over Dani's words, pushing away the initial shock and horror brought on by her story, despite its short description, and twists his ring. "Blaine's parents never – they never really accepted him, you know? It was mostly just little comments, small things. But they both travel a lot, so it was just the elephant in the room for the few days they were home." Kurt sees Elliott and Dani nod and calms his thoughts, forcing his voice to stay even when he continues. "He called me on Saturday. He – he could barely get a word out. His dad –" Kurt stops, slowly lets out a breath, focuses on the twist of the ring on his finger. "His dad hit him; Blaine fell back and hit a wall."

"He's okay?" Elliott's voice rings with sincerity and Kurt offers him a small smile.

"He's got some bruises. He's actually staying with my parents right now; Dad and Carole already see him as family. But Blaine – he bottles things up, doesn't want to risk letting anyone down or worrying me. And I want to help him – more than anything, really – but I've never dealt with something like this. We Skyped all day yesterday, and the whole time I was afraid I'd say the wrong thing."

"I'm sure you said all the right things." Elliott's comment has Kurt meeting his gaze across the table. "It's obvious you love him; that's the best thing he can hear right now."

"Yeah," Dani agrees, snagging a chip from Kurt's plate. "After I left, things were hard for a while, but I used to dream about meeting that perfect girl who I'd know was always in my corner, you know?"

Kurt nods, remembering Blaine's heart-felt 'thank-yous' and the gratitude expressed in every conversation. "He does know that. I just can't help but feel like I'm not doing enough, especially since I couldn't get on a plane…"

"You were still there for him. You said he called you, right?" Kurt nods at Elliott's question. "Then just focus on that; he called _you_. And you answered. That says a lot."

Kurt gives Elliott a half-smile. "Any other words of wisdom? I don't want to monopolize your time, but you both have been so helpful and it's…a relief, getting decent advice in the city."

"No problem," Elliott says with a smile and a glance at Dani, "this is important."

Kurt relaxes slightly in his chair and smiles, ready to listen.

* * *

Blaine sits cross-legged on Kurt's old bed, papers and books spread out around him like debris from an impact as he works on his homework. Burt had taken him back to his parents' house the day before so he could grab the stuff he needed for school along with some clothes (not pajamas, because why fill his bag when Kurt's were more comfortable anyway?) and his much missed laptop.

Now, Blaine glares at his calculus book as he absently taps a rhythm with his pencil on his borrowed pajamas pants. Tina's notes helped some but the current homework assignment seemed to be making his headache worse, despite the Tylenol he'd taken earlier. He had completed his other homework first, hoping that putting off the calc problems would give his headache time to recede.

Of course, even after an hour and a half, the headache still pulses behind his eyes.

Blaine sighs and glances at his phone.

_Text message from Blaine:_

Calculus and headaches don't mix well :(

_Text message from Kurt:_

I'm sorry :(

_Text message from Kurt:_

I'm guessing you already took some meds…take a break?

_Text message from Blaine:_

Yeah – and only 4 problems left. If I take a break I just won't finish them

_Text message from Kurt:_

You have 45 minutes and then I'm calling – you're more important than calc! :)

Blaine shakes his head with a smile and turns back to his book with a sigh, picking up his graphing calculator. An empty eraser and forty minutes later Blaine snaps the book shut, gathering the various papers and throwing it all in his bag. Moments later he's back on the bed, snatching his phone and dialing.

"Three minutes to spare; I'm impressed." Kurt's teasing voice has Blaine smiling, unable to hold it in.

"You always give me the best incentives."

"Well, I certainly try." Blaine shuffles on the bed, leaning back against the pillows when Kurt continues. "So, school was okay?"

"Mm." Blaine sighs. "It wasn't horrible, but Glee was exhausting. We're changing the choreography a bit – which made Tina…irritated – and it wasn't too much, but we danced for most of rehearsal."

"Did," Kurt pauses, "Did that go okay? You didn't push yourself too hard, right? You have to look after yourself, Blaine."

"I'm okay, promise!" Blaine can hear the earnestness in his voice. "Just tired."

"Well," Kurt draws out the word, "Why don't we go to bed soon – we both need our sleep."

"Soon, sure, but how are you?"

"I'm –" Kurt sighs. "I'm okay – it was just a long day. Dani and Elliott found me at the coffee shop earlier; we talked for a bit, but…"

"But what?" Blaine leans forward a bit, even though Kurt can't see him.

"They met up without me to talk about songs for the band." Kurt's voice has an edge to it, a touch of stress. "Rock songs…that they thought about without me."

"They met with you later though, Kurt. That has to count for something, right?"

"Not on purpose." Kurt's voice has gone quiet. "Dani saw me through the window; if I hadn't been sitting there I wouldn't have known. They would have had their rock song planning session and I'd be none the wiser."

"Kurt," Blaine pauses, searching for words of comfort, "I think the point is that they did find you. I'm not –" Blaine cuts himself off, takes a breath. "I'm not saying that you shouldn't be upset that they talked without you, but they didn't hide it. And…maybe it's a good thing? They're so invested in the band that they're taking the time to think about songs for you guys to perform."

"Maybe." Kurt sighs. "Sorry. I don't mean to sound so paranoid; I'm just nervous, I guess."

"You're not paranoid, Kurt." At Kurt's slight laugh Blaine reconsiders. "Okay, maybe just a little, but it's nothing you have to apologize for; I like that you're so focused on your band. And it is _your _band, so it makes sense that you'd be...concerned, when people talk about it without you. Still," Blaine pauses and runs the fingers of his left hand over the comforter. "I don't think they meant anything malicious by it – they did include you, after all."

"Mm. You're right, I know you are – I just don't like being excluded."

"I know." Blaine pauses, thinking back to the times in Glee when Kurt had been left out of gatherings simply because of his sexuality; he lets out a steady breath to release the residual anger from the past events. "Maybe…maybe you could talk to them about it? Try and set up band meetings outside of rehearsal?"

"Yes Blaine, because the first thing I want to do is show the new members the band my neurosis." The teasing lilt takes any sting out of Kurt's words, and Blaine laughs.

"Okay, okay. Well then, I guess you'll just have to keep listening, then. And from what I've heard, Elliott and Dani seem like decent people, so I'm sure things will work out. Besides," Blaine smiles and hopes Kurt can hear the truth of his next words. "You're amazing Kurt – they'd have to be _idiots _to not take full advantage of your talent."

"And that's your completely unbiased opinion, of course."

"Oh, I'm totally biased, but that doesn't make it any less true."

"I'm going to ignore the fallacies in that statement and accept it as it was intended."

Blaine lets out a small laugh. "You should. I meant it, you know."

"I did get that impression." Blaine can picture the smile on Kurt's face.

"Good."

A brief pause of comfortable silence and then Blaine tries to hide his yawn. "I heard that, Blaine. It's late; we should be getting ready for bed."

Blaine pushes down the irrational spike of apprehension at the thought of hanging up the phone. "Hm. I just need to brush my teeth."

"Me too. So…five minutes?"

Blaine agrees and heads to the bathroom, quickly brushing his teeth while focusing on the joy he feels from seeing his hair gel and toothpaste in Kurt's bathroom. Finishing, Blaine exits the room, turning off the overhead light and settles in Kurt's bed, moving the blankets and lying on his side before getting his phone from the nightstand.

"Kurt?"

There's rustling for a moment, "Hey. Sorry, just had to fix these blankets."

Blaine laughs. "I did, too. Your comforter decided to be tricky."

"Hm…sounds like they're out to get us."

"I think we'll win."

Kurt laughs and then proceeds to ask Blaine more about his day, pulling out Blaine's concerns about the rest of Glee seeing the make-up, his worry about the troublesome accompaniment to their second song for Nationals, his concern over Tina's increasing complaints about Glee – until he yawned.

"I think the day is catching up with us; we should sleep." Kurt gives a tired laugh. "And yes, I know I said that earlier, but I mean it this time. We'll talk tomorrow, after all."

"Mm," Blaine agrees. "Night Kurt; sleep well."

"You too – sweet dreams. I love you."

"Love you too." Blaine ends the call with a press of his finger, smiling until the picture fades.

* * *

Blaine wakens with a jolt; blankets twisting and his eyes searching for light in the dark grey of the silent room –

_Laughter fades. Streaks of color and blaring sound before there's nothing. Blaine lays in silence, everything dark outside the radius of the streetlamp._

_The house echoes in silence; in front of him, his father stares back with cold eyes. Blaine aches, needs to run, but he's trapped – _

_Hands hold him captive. Pain floods his body and he's falling –_

His phone's harsh light stings his eyes, casts the room in a kaleidoscope of shadows.

Breathe in. _It's in the past._

Breathe out. _Just another nightmare._

Two tries to unlock his phone – 2:48 A.M. – and then his heartbeat calms at the sight of Kurt, happiness shining as brightly as the ring on his finger.

_Text message from Blaine:_

Is it too late (early?) for NyQuil?

Blaine straightens the mess of blankets, pulls the comforter back from where it's half off the bed. The vibration of his phone has him scrambling to grab it even as he forces himself to calm.

_Text message from Kurt:_

Probably, and it might not help :(

_Text message from Kurt:_

Do you have your iPod?

_Text message from Blaine:_

Yes?

_Text message from Kurt:_

Get it. Put on our playlist, okay?

Ensconced back in the blankets moments later, iPod beside him and headphones softly playing, Blaine reaches again for his phone.

_Text message from Kurt:_

I'm right here.

_Text message from Blaine:_

I love you 3

_Text message from Kurt:_

Love you too – forever. Sleep well

_Text message from Kurt:_

Courage. 3

Blaine closes his eyes with a smile: he has the _best fiancé _who has the best ideas.

* * *

Carole finishes pouring her cup of coffee and turns when Burt enters the kitchen, smiling when he joins her at the counter.

"Good morning."

"Hm." Burt takes a sip of steaming coffee. "Morning."

"If only your constituents knew that Congressman Burt Hummel isn't a morning person."

Burt gives Carole a playful glare as he moves around the kitchen. "At least they would agree with me, I'm sure. I represent the people, after all."

"Mm." Carole smiles over the rim of her coffee cup. "And for those that are shocked?"

Burt half-heartedly shrugs while grabbing his toast. "Their choice; not like I agree with everyone." Burt grimaces. "Some more than others."

"Burt –" Carole takes a step forward and rests a hand on his shoulder.

"His mother left. I get that she's a bit clueless, but going on vacation after what happened? Not even a note." Burt shakes his head. "I get his father," Burt winces at the word, a bad taste in his mouth, "I get why he made himself scarce two days ago. But I just can't understand it, Carole."

"I think," Carole takes a breath, forces her voice steady. "This is something we can't understand."

"The day I do you better sign me up for therapy."

Carole sighs. "You start relating to those people and I'll worry for your mental health." Carole steps back, takes a seat at the table in front of her oatmeal and Burt joins her moments later.

Blaine enters the kitchen with a slight smile and wave, and Carole holds in a sigh as she takes in the paleness of his skin (despite the slight sheen of makeup) and the shadows under his eyes.

"Good morning." Blaine nods as he heads for the coffee pot. Moments later he's joined them at the table, copying Burt's breakfast of coffee and toast. This early in the morning, conversation is limited, generic questions about plans for the day and Burt's short trip to Washington in two weeks.

Still, Blaine manages to evade Burt's question about his sleep the night before, and Burt and Carole share a glance as Blaine pours coffee into a travel mug behind them. Moments later Blaine exits the kitchen with a wave, promising Burt he'll see him in the shop that afternoon.

"Kid doesn't know how to take it easy," Burt's comments as the front door closes. "Don't worry," Burt adds at Carole's look, "He's getting breaks whether he wants them or not."

* * *

Blaine balances his coffee cup in his left hand as he straightens with his bag on his shoulder and attempts to shut his car door and lock it one handed. Shoving his keys in his pocket moments later, Blaine turns to find Sam walking toward him.

"Oh man." Sam nods toward Blaine's mug. "I left my Monster at Ryder's house."

Blaine scrunches his nose. "I still don't know how you drink that stuff."

"I don't know how you drink _that_." Sam shudders and points to the coffee. "That is disgusting. Monster though, it's amazing and –"

Blaine jumps, spilling some of his coffee (despite the lid) and not hearing the rest of Sam's comment as the screech of a car echoes throughout the lot.

"Whoa!" Sam's exclamation has Blaine turning, cheeks flushing in embarrassment as Sam continues to talk. "– okay? I guess someone had their caffeine."

Blaine forces a laugh. "Fine, I'm fine. Just startled." He smiles continues to nod as Sam starts recounting Ryder's disastrous attempt at dinner the night before. Minutes later they enter the school, the discordant sound of voices echoing in the hallway.

"You just let them get that goal! You didn't even fight the –"

Blaine jolts, lost in nightmares –

"_Homos couldn't even put up a fight and make it fun!_"

"– lost the game!"

"Blaine, you okay?" Blaine blinks, quickly turning his head to face Sam, seeing two jocks down the hall as he does so. "You're getting clumsy."

Blaine bites back a sigh at the splash of coffee on his hand, the small puddle on the tile floor. "Apparently Wednesdays aren't my day." Blaine gives a distracted smile. "I'm gonna head to the bathroom," Blaine nods toward his hand, "wash this off."

Entering the bathroom, Blaine hides his grimace at the sight of its occupants, the unknown underclassmen with limited fashion sense laughing with the occasional jock proudly wearing the unshapely letterman jacket. Sighing at the lack of privacy, he makes his way to the sink, carefully setting his cup (lines of spilt coffee visible down the side) on the rim before grabbing some paper towels.

_Text message from Blaine:_

[photo] Clumsiness isn't good for coffee

_Text message from Blaine:_

And don't worry – I have no plans to drink any remnants after the cup's been in the bathroom

_Text message from Kurt:_

Oh no! :(

Blaine sighs and rinses off his hand before emptying the cup.

_Text message from Blaine:_

I really needed that coffee, too

_Text message from Kurt:_

:( I'm sorry.

_Text message from Kurt:_

I love you. 3

In spite of his now empty coffee cup and the tiredness biding in the back of his mind, Blaine smiles.


	11. Chapter 10

Remind Me to Forget

Chapter 10

Kurt looks up from his computer when he hears the door to the loft open, winces when he hears the shouting seconds later. The shouting was a continuation of small arguments that had occurred over the weekend; not even the holiday had given Kurt a reprieve. Sighing, Kurt pushes back his chair and briefly closes his eyes before he leaves his room.

"– and boss me around?" Kurt enters the living area and finds Santana walking after Rachel, following her around the kitchen.

"I'm not _bossing _you, Santana! I'm the lead in a Broadway musical! I can't tell them I can't make a rehearsal because I tripped trying to carry groceries up the stairs!"

Kurt stops by the sofa, wary to interfere, but close enough to speak up if needed. Still, when Santana turns to face him with a glare and a look of exasperation, he briefly wishes he'd stayed at his desk.

"Do you hear her?" Santana spins back to face Rachel. "Seriously? We're not the _help_, Berry; you can carry some groceries up the stairs. Or," Santana smirks but keeps her glare, "Should I be calling your director? Someone clumsy enough to trip while carrying a bag of food really shouldn't be attempting to dance on stage."

Rachel lets out a screech of annoyance and stomps forward as Kurt winces.

"You need to grow up, Santana! _I _got the lead in a Broadway musical, and you just can't accept that I'm _better than you_. That I'm succeeding in New York while you've got one commercial to your name. Maybe you'll get someone some day, but for now I'm the whose name is on lights, and I thought that as a roommate you'd be more supportive. But you just can't see past your jealousy, can you?"

Kurt makes an abortive movement toward where Rachel and Santana are standing, but Santana's already closed the space, snapping at Rachel. "We're back to this? God, Berry, how many times do I have to say it?! So you got your dream role – newsflash, it's not mine! I never wanted it, so for the last time, Rachel Berry, I _am not jealous _of you! If I'd wanted to be in _Funny Girl _I would've auditioned, and you can bet I would've gotten whatever role I wanted! What you need to get through your head is that getting your dream role doesn't make you queen of the universe! Stop bossing us around; you're not any better than us," Santana gestures toward Kurt and Kurt mentally curses himself for leaving his room, "so you can stop the diva act, and carry the groceries and remember that most people _sleep_ at five in the morning!"

"I have to practice! I'm sorry if my singing interferes with your sleep schedule." Rachel's voice drips with derision, and Kurt takes a breath, preparing to interrupt.

"Look, why don't we just take a break –"

"Are you intentionally ignoring what I'm saying?!" Santana snaps, cutting Kurt off mid-word. "You're not the pretty princess living with your two dads anymore. You're sharing a _loft _with two roommates and you need to stop, Rachel! You're going to be alone anyway, but the way you're acting? You're going to lose any friend you've ever had, too!"

"I'm not going to be alone!" Rachel steps back, away from Santana, shock and hurt evident as she turns to face Kurt. "Kurt, you want to be a Broadway star, maybe she'll listen if you, as my best gay, explain it?"

Kurt takes in Rachel's hopeful face and crosses his arms. "I'm not getting involved in this. I'm just –"

"Not taking sides?!" Rachel's screech interrupts Kurt – apparently he won't be able to finish a sentence today – and he takes a step forward as she continues. "I thought we were _best friends_, Kurt, but you're not on my side?" Rachel spins around, her face a mix of hurt and anger and she heads to her room.

After the echoes of the argument, the silence is unnerving.

"And people say _I'm _the bitch."

"Santana…" Kurt sighs and heads for the kitchen. He needs coffee.

"What? I know she's your friend – I still don't know how that happened – but even you have to admit she's taking this too far."

"I'm not getting involved, Santana. I'm Switzerland." Kurt carefully measures out the coffee, makes sure it's evenly spread in the filter.

"So now you've decided to not have an opinion?"

After pressing the button to start the coffee maker Kurt turns to face Santana. "No. I'm not getting involved."

"Hm." Santana picks up a bag from where it lay sideways on the floor, and starts putting away pasta and bread. "I give it a week." Moments later, Santana closes the cabinet with a tap and breezes past Kurt on her way toward her room. "You better talk to the diva, Hummel; I'm getting tired of staying nice."

Kurt feels his shoulders drop as Santana leaves, and drops into a chair at the table, pulling out his phone.

_Text message from Kurt:_

I should just invest stock in cheesecake and always buy one when I go out

_Text message from Blaine:_

?

_Text message from Kurt:_

Roommates :(

_Text message from Blaine:_

I love you! 3

In spite of the residual tension in the air, Kurt smiles.

_Text message from Blaine:_

…should I be calling certain roommates? I can't have my fiancé getting upset

_Text message from Kurt:_

My knight in shining armor, right?

_Text message from Blaine:_

Always! ;)

* * *

"Alright guys. So you all know to help all of you get ready for our first performance in two weeks I decided to bring back a Glee tradition." Blaine shares a glance with Sam, wary of the enthusiasm Mr. Schue's voice, wondering if Schue is going to change the lesson. "Well we've got our first duet today – Jake and Ryder!"

Blaine relaxes a bit in his chair; no changes, then. Sam had filled him in on the topic yesterday along with the fact that he was his partner. Although Blaine's first choice of duet partner is currently stunning the populace of New York, he's still looking forward to this week's performances – and he'd already talked about song ideas with Kurt's input.

"– can sing something tomorrow?" Blaine turns at Sam's question, feels his eyebrows draw together in confusion.

"What?"

"Zoning out again? I just said that we could go tomorrow."

"Oh." Blaine smiles. "Maybe not tomorrow…Friday? I talked with Kurt; he had some ideas for us. I emailed you a couple videos."

"You don't trust me to come up with something on my own?"

"What? No I just – Kurt –"

Sam laughs and leans forward. "I was just kidding! I figured you'd talk to Kurt anyway, but um…no musicals? They're fine for you and Kurt, but they're not really part of our style, you know?"

"Yeah." Blaine pauses for a moment, and wonders what gave Sam the idea that they'd sing something from a musical anyway; there are literally thousands of songs in other genres, and Blaine (and Kurt) know a fair amount of them. "Let me know what you think of what I sent though – they're both easy enough for us to have done in two days."

"We got this!"

Blaine smiles and then turns as the music starts for Jake and Ryder's song. He shakes his head slightly as he listens to the lyrics.

_Text message from Blaine:_

First duet! Jake and Ryder ;)

_Text message from Kurt:_

Of course there's more same sex duets after I've graduated…

_Text message from Blaine:_

Don't worry – you're always my first choice for a duet partner! 3

The song ends to applause and then murmurs as Jake and Ryder take their seats. Mr. Schue claps his hands in an effort to get everyone's attention. "Okay! Any other volunteers?" When no one moves Mr. Schue continues. "Alright – the rest of you remember you've got two more days. But, now why don't we head to the auditorium and get back to rehearsal for Nationals!"

"He's only smiling because he doesn't have to practice dancing." Unique's quiet comment has Blaine huffing a laugh as he stands, then turning and offering her his arm.

"Probably, but the practice can't hurt – especially since we changed the first routine a little."

"Oh, I knew _that_ – I just wish he didn't look so joyful at our pain."

"Mm." Blaine agrees and awkwardly shrugs one shoulder: he's never understood Mr. Schue. "We have a goal, though, so if nothing else, just focus on that."

"You really are a regular Prince Charming, aren't you?"

Blaine ducks his head to hide his blush as they enter the auditorium.

* * *

Blaine exits the auditorium with Sam, Jake, and Ryder, heading for the locker room showers. After dancing for the past hour they're all a bit sweaty (Blaine's secretly grateful for Kurt's knowledge; his bruise remained hidden underneath carefully applied makeup) and Blaine wants to clean off before heading to Mr. Hummel's shop.

"I'm going to be thinking about those moves in my _sleep_." Jake's exasperated comment has Ryder laughing.

"Your life must be pretty boring if you're dreaming about dance moves."

Jake shoots Ryder a glare and playfully punches him in the arm as they enter the locker room. "Not cool –"

"– like a girl! Whining all the time! Man up – this was just _practice!_" The jock's mocking yell cuts off Jake's comment, and Blaine jumps at the noise.

Sam and Jake laugh before Jake nods toward the group. "Surprised?"

"I guess they are kinda loud." Blaine silently thanks Sam for his support, even though he had been laughing moments before.

"A bit." Blaine shrugs and ducks his head. "I forgot other people would still be here."

"Looks like we get to share the locker room; hopefully they'll all be too tired to start anything."

Ryder's comment has Blaine tensing before he forcibly relaxes his shoulders. "Well, we won't be in here long."

Blaine quickly grabs his bag and heads for the shower, glad when he's first in the room. He swiftly washes the sweat from his body – Kurt would surely critique him on his efficiency – and ducks out of the shower, grabbing his bag and an extra towel.

"Whoa dude – what happened to your back?"

Blaine tenses at Sam's comment but keeps his head down, turned away. "Oh!" Blaine laughs, forces himself to stay still. "Was practicing at home and misjudged a jump; hit a wall." Blaine laughs again, hopes Sam doesn't hear the catch in his voice.

"I knew you were doing extra stuff! That's the only way you could've been so awesome at rehearsal!"

"You caught me." Blaine steps away, closer to the stalls. "I've gotta fix my hair, though."

"I'm gonna tell Kurt about your obsession with your hair! It's not normal, Blaine." Sam's half shout carries even over the rush of water and conversations from the other guys in the room.

Quickly entering a stall, Blaine bites back his comment that Kurt loves that Blaine cares about his appearance, and sags in relief as he pulls the makeup and hand mirror out of his bag.

Ten minutes later Blaine exits McKinley High, hair still damp from his hurried shower. In his car moments later, he sighs and loosens his grip on the steering wheel before pulling out of the lot.

By the time Blaine pulls into the parking lot of _Hummel Tire & Lube _he's singing along to Pink and wondering if Burt will have him work on cars or keep him doing paperwork and miscellaneous tasks.

_Text message from Blaine:_

You're a genius!

_Text message from Kurt:_

I know…but remind me why, again?

Briefly, Blaine considers telling a white-lie. Kurt _is _a genius, and Blaine hesitates at reminding his fiancé of the bruise he's hiding. But… he had promised Kurt honesty.

_Text message from Blaine:_

Your recommended makeup survived dance rehearsal – I was worried I'd sweat it off!

Blaine exits the car and greets a few mechanics on his way to Burt's office before his phone chimes in a return text.

_Text message from Kurt:_

You shouldn't doubt my skills ;)

_Text message from Kurt:_

Although I'm sorry you still have to wear it

Blaine frowns at the message, debates his reply.

_Text message from Blaine:_

Not for much longer – it's fading ;)

_Text message from Blaine:_

And I *never* doubt your skills – you're my amazing, wonderful fiancé! 3

Satisfied, Blaine pockets his phone and knocks on Burt's office doorframe.

"Hey kid." Burt greets as he steps away from his desk. "I was just finishing up some orders. You up for helpin' me replace a carburetor?" Burt gestures to a box on his desk. "Part just came in."

"Sure." Blaine steps back as Burt picks up the package and exits the office, following him to a minivan that has seen better days, given its dents.

"So," Burt flashes Blaine a smile as he raises the hood. "How was school?"

Blaine ducks his head, warmed by the sincerity of the question. "Not too bad. No slushies, anyway." Blaine pauses, thinking back to Ryder's comment and his own apprehension after hearing the jocks.

"Blaine? You still here?"

Blaine shakes his head at Burt's comment. "Sorry! Got lost in thought for a moment." Blaine shrugs before continuing. "Jake and Ryder did their duet in Glee – I think Kurt's jealous that there's more segregated duets."

Burt laughs. "I'm sure he is – he always liked singing with you the most."

Blaine smiles. "He's a great duet partner. He's actually helping me think of songs for me and Sam. It's down to two, right now."

"I'm sure you'll get it figured out."

"Hm." Blaine nods as he focuses on pulling the mailing tape off the box in his hands. "Sam's supposed to narrow it down tonight, so then we'll just have to practice tomorrow."

"Make sure you sing some at the house."

Blaine glances up in surprise at Burt's comment, lets the half box hang lax in his hands. "I'm sorry?"

"You heard me, Blaine. It's been too quiet – Sam's welcome to come over. It would be nice to hear some music again."

"I'll text him after dinner."

Burt takes a step closer. "Good plan. Now, you got that thing open?" At Blaine's nod he continues. "Alright then – let's get this finished so Carole isn't waiting on us for dinner."

* * *

Kurt absently wipes down the counter while he waits for the order he just placed. The diner is moderately busy, enough customers seated at the tables that he, Dani, and Santana each have at least two, and he's sure Rachel won't be left out when she arrives in half an hour.

"Who orders toast for dinner? Seriously."

Kurt startles at Dani's comment, dropping the rag so it piles in on itself. "What?"

"That's twice this week; I'm going to start keeping a tally of all the times I make you jump."

"Not funny." Kurt gives Dani an unimpressed look. "Anyway, you were saying?"

"That woman." Dani gestures to the left. "She ordered toast. That's it. Just toast. Who does that?"

"Maybe she's sick?" Kurt picks up the rag and places it back under the counter.

"She didn't sound sick, and if she is, why is she out in public? But really – toast? You can make toast at home!" Dani sighs and slouches against the counter. "I'm not going to get any tip out of this."

"At least you have an easy customer. Earlier a guy wanted a salad, but without half the ingredients that come on the salad, and two dressings on the side."

Dani laughs and pats Kurt's shoulder. "Welcome to New York: home of people who have ridiculous orders because it makes them feel important."

"Ha." Kurt turns and begins straightening some salt and pepper shakers.

"What's up with you, anyway?"

"What?"

"You jumped again, Kurt. Something on your mind?" Dani pauses and then leans forward, catches Kurt's gaze. "Your fiancé's okay, right? Nothing else –"

"No! No – he's fine." Kurt quickly interrupts. "I just – he messaged me earlier…nothing bad, but it reminded me about what happened last week. It's not like I forgot, really, but I…" Kurt trails off, unsure of how to voice the rest.

"You focused on other things." Dani's voice is soft, but confident.

"Yeah." Kurt glances at his ring. "It's easier."

"Mm." Dani nods and then grabs the plate with two slices of toast that's been placed on the ledge. "Oh! Remind me when we catch another break – I was talking with Elliott and we ended up running through some AC/DC. It was awesome! Anyway, we can up with some modifications for doing it with the whole band and I brought the music to show you."

Kurt gives a tense smile. "Great. I can't wait to see it."

Dani smiles and then steps away. Moments later one of Kurt's customers catches his eye and he heads over, hoping the man just wants some extra dipping sauce or other inane item.

Minutes later, Kurt returns to the counter (having successfully gotten the man some honey mustard) and begins pulling out cups to preemptively make refills.

"If one more person asks me if I'm from Mexico I'm going to start cursing in Spanish."

"I don't think that will help with the misconception." Kurt grabs the full cup of Diet Coke and places it on a tray, moving to fill another with Sprite.

"Not the point, Hummel." Santana leans against the counter and stretches her arms in front of her.

Kurt grabs the now filled glass before glancing out at the tables and grabbing one more, filling with the Coke. "I don't think I want to know what the point is."

"Probably not." Santana shrugs. "But I figure if they're gonna assume I'm not an American I might as well curse them in a language they don't understand."

"And if they speak Spanish?" Kurt places the last cup on the tray and lifts it, turning to fully face Santana.

Santana smirks. "Then they'll fully appreciate my creativity."

Kurt steps around Santana and pauses before heading for his tables. "They might, but I don't think Gunther would." Kurt takes the time to appreciate the glare Santana gives him before he leaves.

An hour later, Kurt slouches against the window to the kitchen, tired but waiting for the three orders he placed minutes ago. With the diner so full Kurt can't take a break, so he settles for leaning; still, he pulls out his phone after ensuring no one is looking in his direction.

_Text message from Kurt:_

Apparently I missed the memo where everyone decided to eat out on Wednesdays

_Text message from Blaine:_

That busy?

_Text message from Kurt:_

I haven't had a break yet :(

_Text message from Blaine:_

Don't work too hard, Kurt – you need rest too!

Kurt smiles at Blaine's concern, even as he shakes his head in amusement.

_Text message from Kurt:_

I've only got 30 min left. Besides, it's a good tip night ;)

_Text message from Blaine:_

You should treat yourself, then. It would make your fiancé happy :)

Kurt laughs, glad Blaine has cheered up despite everything that's happened. He'd worried; even earlier, Kurt had read the forced levity in Blaine's messages. Now, though, it's obvious Blaine's evening has improved.

"Someone's happy."

Kurt gives an aborted lurch and Rachel's comment, hastily shoving his phone in his pocket. "Do all of you practice sneaking up on me?"

Beside him, hands on her hips, Rachel smiles and shakes her head. "I know I don't. Maybe you're just easily scared."

"Or maybe you need louder shoes."

Rachel just raises her eyebrows. "Anyway – I'm guessing a certain someone sent a romantic note?"

Kurt's face briefly scrunches in confusion before he shakes his head with a smile. "Oh, not really. Blaine just said I should treat myself with the extra tips tonight."

"He's certainly sweet." Rachel turns slightly as Santana's laugh rings from by the register. "Unlike some people."

"Rachel…"

"What, Kurt? You heard what she said! She needs to understand that as the lead in a Broadway production I can't –"

"Rachel, please." Kurt interrupts the rant. "Just, not tonight, okay? I'm tired and not taking sides."

"Oh. That's right." Rachel's voice takes on a cutting edge. "I'd forgotten that my _best friend _decided to not support me."

Rachel moves to step away but Kurt steps forward, catching her attention. "It doesn't mean I don't support you Rachel; I'm still planning our movie night. I just – I'm just not getting in between this thing with you and Santana."

Rachel's eyes remain narrowed but she nods before walking away from the counter. Kurt closes his eyes for moment, remembers Blaine's text.

_Text message from Kurt:_

I think I'll do that :)

_Text message from Kurt:_

You have the best ideas – I love you! 3

Kurt pockets his phone and turns, sees the orders he placed sitting on the ledge. He steps back from the counter with a sigh, grabbing a tray.

Twenty more minutes.

* * *

Kurt enters his room and flops onto his bed, an ungraceful movement he'll forever deny. The shower helped ease the strain from his muscles, but he still feels heavy with exhaustion. He's grateful the diner's schedule allowed him to get home before Rachel or Santana's shifts ended; the silence is calming, easy without the thread of anticipation he feels whenever the girls are present – one will always snap.

Sitting up, Kurt leans over and picks up his phone from the bedside table. He smiles, unbidden, at his lock screen before entering the four numbers and hitting his speed dial.

"You're early." Blaine's teasing voice is warm.

"I didn't think you'd mind."

"Never." A rustle and then Blaine's voice comes back through the line. "Sorry. Oh! I meant to tell you earlier but I forgot. Sam loved your idea! We're going to sing Friday, I think."

"I have impeccable taste." Kurt sighs and leans back against his pillows, holding his phone between his chin and shoulder as he straightens the mess of blankets. "You'll get someone to record it, right?"

"Of course. You deserve to see your idea in action."

Kurt laughs and stretches out his legs. "I can't wait. But that's Friday; how was today?"

"Ordinary." A pause, and when he next speaks Blaine's voice has taken a soft edge, a quiet hesitance that has Kurt's hand tightening on his phone. "Well, mostly. I've been jumpy lately, I guess. And Sam thinks I have an unhealthy obsession with my hair. After Glee I had to shower and um – afterwards I said I had to fix my hair and that's why I was hurrying…I needed to reapply the makeup."

Kurt releases his lower lip from where he'd been biting it, anxious throughout Blaine's words. "I've been jumpy too; I think all the girls I know have unnaturally quiet shoes." Kurt lets out a small breath before he continues. "I'm glad you told me, though. And don't worry about Sam; you've always been picky about your hair – it's one of the many things I love about you."

"I love you, too." Silence for a moment, and Kurt stares at his ring, bright in spite of the dim glow from his bedside lamp.

"But other than that, things were okay?"

"Mm." A shift, and Kurt pictures Blaine turning, settling on his side. "Rehearsal went well, although that might be because we only focused on our first song."

"Well, that one's the most complicated, right? It makes sense."

"Yeah." Blaine yawns before continuing. "Mr. Schue seemed extra happy though – I thought Kitty was going to snap at him."

Kurt lets out a small laugh and turns as well, resting his head on his pillow. "Mr. Schue does that; he's annoyingly happy when you just want to be done. And don't think I didn't hear that yawn; I know you have to be tired after everything, and you haven't gotten much rest lately." Kurt flashes back to the text he'd gotten in the middle of the night, the knowledge that Blaine's sleep wasn't peaceful. "We should sleep."

"Mm. We will, but you have to tell me about your day first."

"I _have _to?" Kurt smiles, knows Blaine can hear it.

"Mhm. It's only fair."

"Well, I suppose since my fiancé asked…" Kurt lets the sentence trail off, listens for Blaine's answering chuckle before he continues. "There's not much to tell, really. Classes were classes, although Ms. July made another freshman cry again – you'd think they'd learn that it's not the best decision to question a former Broadway darling. Rachel and Santana are still snipping at each other –"

"You're not getting dragged in, right?"

"I'm completely neutral, even though I'd have half the stress if I chose a side. I can't though." Kurt pauses. "I won't – it's not my fight."

"That's right. And they need to sort it out for themselves anyway."

"Hm. They do." Kurt agrees. "So now you're all caught up on the life and times of Kurt Hummel."

"Mm." Blaine's mumble is barely audible through the phone.

"You still there, Blaine?"

"Mm. Yeah, sorry. It's just been a long day."

Kurt frowns. "I thought you were fine."

"Just a headache and some soreness. Carole gave me ice and Tylenol – I'm fine Kurt. Promise."

"Right." Kurt's skepticism is clear. "But now I've kept my end of the deal, so we should sleep, Blaine."

"Sweet dreams. Love you."

"I love you too. Sleep well, okay? Sweet dreams."

Kurt pulls his phone away from his ear, watches as the screen darkens since Blaine ended the call. He hopes Blaine's dreams are pleasant; he deserves them to be. Still, Kurt knows he won't be surprised if his phone beeps at some odd hour.

Blaine's nightmares haunt them both.

* * *

**Author's Note:** Hey everyone, thanks again for all the lovely comments (and sorry if I missed messaging you back!) I just wanted to let you know that I do actually have a playlist for the songs mentioned in the chapter, but ffn won't let me include links so if you'd like to know a song feel free to message me :)


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